Predator
by DK2005
Summary: MxN. Their memoirs at The Wammy House and beyond. Explicit sex, violence, language, rape, R18, references to Catholicism & sacrilege.IMPORTANT: THIS WAS WRITTEN BEFORE WE KNOW NEAR IS 2 YEARS YOUNGER THAN MELLO. THEY JUST ASSUME THEY ARE THE SAME AGE!
1. Chapter 1

_WARNINGS: Rated NC-17/R-18 (whatever it is depending on your country of origin), yaoi (boy x boy sex), OC, random OOC-ness, made-up past memoirs, some coarse language, some violence, graphic & explicit under-aged sexual content. _

**PREDATOR**

PART 1: NEIAR

_WINCHESTER, UK, 2005._

It was like that time again.

I thought it was well behind me, I thought it was over.

And I sure never wanted to even think about it again.

So when Roger introduced us, it was a pre-emptive strike.

The look in his eyes made me all but turned away reflexively.

His fervent, predatory eyes, as if threatening to kill anyone in sight.

His almost platinum-blonde hair, perfectly and ironically framing his devilish countenance.

My mind trailed 5 years back on its own, back to the year 2000. The whole fuss about the New Millennium was still fresh everywhere, even though I was only about 10.

She had the same platinum blonde hair. The same eerie smile. Even the same preference for black.

And I get an extra jolt in my subconscious everytime I hear someone call him "Mel." And God forbid it was so contagious I had to try so hard sometimes to concentrate on saying "Mello", but I inevitably succumbed to the single-syllable habit.

Just like that time.

Just like _her_.

Only her name wasn't short for Mello. It was Mellina.

Mellina Merls Deward. The name I tried so hard to forget but still stubbornly attached itself to me until now.

Mellina, with her perfect image and her flawless reputation.

Strangely enough, Mello was slightly less unnerving.

Because at least he was honest. Because at least his blatant defiance to every single thing he saw was there for everyone to see.

There was just one thing in common between them.

Neither of them were stupid.

"Hi, I'm Mellina. You can call me Mel." So she introduced herself 5 years ago. She was the very first person who actually came up and talked to me.

"Oh, hi. I'm Neiar." I think I said that back then...rather nervously. The next thing I remembered was her making a comment about the complexity of the jigsaw puzzle I was working on.

I hadn't stayed there long. The next orphanage I ended up in had the exact same Mel, but a totally different person. For starters, he was a boy.

And then not long after that...

"Mello, I want you to say hello to Neiar." So Roger has introduced us.

"Hi. Neiar."

"Hi. Mello. Pwissed to meet you." he responded with a mock smile then shot off somewhere.

Roger had shrugged off his unmannerly attitude, and looked at me apologetically. Not that I cared.

Mello's dark shirt and pants that swept the floor was as scruffy-looking as he was. That and the weird mix of Cockney-Cornish twang in his accent. But his unmistakable platinum blonde hair was a guarantee for something more. And I was right.

Mello was smart. Not just academically-smart, but manipulative, meticulous, perfectionist smart. His strategies and plans were almost flawless that he was sure to get whatever he wanted.

That was until, apparently, I came along and ruined his fun. I never meant for that to happen, but once I started to see the effects of what I was doing, I couldn't stop myself.

It became _addictive. _Especially knowing what it did to _him_.

Being put in the same room with him didn't make the situation any easier either.

It always fascinated me how he could eat so much chocolate at one time. It was like a drug to him. Maybe that was what made him rather hyperactive too? I don't know. All I know is, he _had_ picked fights with me more than once. And for some obvious reason it mostly took place the day we get our school work results back. In a weird masochistic way, watching his reactions became an interesting pastime for me.

I wasn't scared of Mel. He just made me...uncomfortable. I was sure the whole orphanage was more scared of him than I was.

And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't because of his uncanny resemblance to Mellina.

Once I spotted him got into a fight with three or more boys who were slightly older than him. I just happened to walked past while collecting plant samples for a science project. But my head was so full of things I wasn't sure what exactly happened even though it occurred right under my nose. The next thing I knew one of the older kid was screaming in pain holding his bleeding hand. Rumours then spread about how Mel liked to carry a random sharp object around and could harm just about anyone. He was suspended from school for a couple of days. But then the rumours died down after about a month.

Truth is, I really, really couldn't care less. All I want is to keep busy.

Perhaps...anything to forget about the _other_ Mel. Although that was only a small part of the reason.

"Neiar, you're so smart." She had said that once. And me being me, just pretended to struggle with the worksheet I was working on sheepishly. "How you can solve such complicated problems is beyond me."

"Mel, it's just simple arithmetics".

_Neiar, you're so smart._

It was more the way she said it than what she said.

Not that I wanted to think about it right now.

"You just have to show off, don't you, you vain sod?" Mel barged into the room, chocolate in one hand, crumpled paper in the other. The fact that he had no respect for anyone including me was no surprise.

I didn't budge from my jigsaw puzzle. Knowing that the past Mel and the current Mel was so different yet so similar from each other was probably what I found the most disturbing. And so he scoffed and threw himself on my bed (with his shoes still on) and pulled out another huge chocolate bar.

"Feh. Stupid geezers just came off me. But so what?"

_I'm no worse than you, Neiar._

He'd said that a million times. It wasn't as if I'd forget.

Then before I knew it he jumped over and hissed in my face.

"Well one day 'e'll come off you too."

I never got to really find out what it was that made him so hell-bent on outsmarting me in the first place.

But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't one bit fun.

_Was I doing it because of Mello or...Mellina?_

Days like this went on for quite a while. And sometimes, as much as I hated it, my mind still trailed back to back when I was 10. Back when Mellina was around.

There was one afternoon where I spotted her having some trouble with a tiny music box. Frustration was written all over her face.

"Something the matter, Mel?"

"My music box...it won't go...I can't turn the thing..."

"Let me have a look." So I fiddled around with it, and it turned out that something was stuck to its bottom clasp, which was why she couldn't turn the button.

"Oh, wow, it works! Thanks, Neiar."

"No wo..."

And before I knew it, she bent over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

_God._

I could still remember the setting. The curtains were blown by the wind above our heads and the twinkling sounds of the music box added to the surreal atmosphere. We were two little ten-year-olds stunned by what just happened for a short moment. Then she broke out a giggle and gave me an embarrassed look. Lucky no one saw us, otherwise the other kids would've teased us to no end.

"What was that?" I think I asked something like that after being dumbstruck for quite awhile.

"Um...I saw it on TV...if you thank someone...you give them...a kiss?" she had said sheepishly.

Trust a girl to let mushy TV stuff get to her.

But that was just the start.

BANG!

"Why won't this bloody thing behave!"

Suddenly I wasn't 10 anymore. Mello was right in front of me banging on the printer which apparently refused to print his documents.

So I reflexively reached over to check if there was any paper stuck.

"Piss off! I don't need your help!" he snapped and shoved my hand aside. I could only wince...I shouldn't have been too taken aback.

There was only the two of us in the library...at this hour anyway. Luckily for us, the printer finally surrendered to Mel's violent treatment and regurgitated stacks of papers.

_The way he sometimes looked at me..._

I shuffled back to my chair uncomfortably.

_...so full of hate._

"You must understand, Neiar. Mello has had a...complicated past," Roger once told me.

_Didn't we all have complicated pasts around here?_

"I'm sure that it's nothing personal."

He would've done the same to anyone who outdid him in any way.

I figured.

"However, no one is allowed to do any harm to anyone or themselves around here. And if it gets to that stage, we will surely take actions."

What actions, really?

I never once complained about it to anyone. It was between me and my own Mel demons. However, it must've been quite obvious to anyone who saw the way he behaved around me.

Or maybe even the way _I_ behaved around him.

_Neiar, Neiar..._

I swore I could still sometimes hear her voice calling me.

Even her smell. A distinguished mixture of magnolia and sandalwood.

I think it was from that time...

There was this one time that Mellina had to be away for a few days to join a camp group somewhere near Dorset. And when she came back, she brought me this tiny packet of toffee.

But not after she gave me a hug.

_A hug._

I was frozen for a while, suddenly having trouble breathing normally as her arms around my neck constricted my air passage.

All I had was her smell around me.

"I've missed you."

"What?"

"I said I've missed you. Why didn't you join the camp?"

I really had no idea how to answer that. So the next thing I mumbled out was something stupid like, "Why did you miss me?"

"Because out of everyone here, I like Neiar the most," she had said that in the most matter-of-factly way possible.

Like the current Mel, the Mel back then was also terribly honest...although for totally different reasons. Subtlety was one thing neither of them was good at.

I remembered seeing a bright pink flush forming swiftly across her face.

But her eyes were so full of...affection.

For _me._

Can one ever fake such an affectionate look?

I couldn't remember much after that except for the fact that the toffee she got me was delicious.

But that was 5 years ago.

"You just _have_ to eat my chocolate, don't you!" Mello's voice was blaring around the room. The other kids hurried away, as if fearing a rainstorm coming.

"Look, it was on the table, in the playroom, and it bloody well didn't have your name labelled on it!" I snapped back.

That time I really wasn't in the mood to take any of his shit.

It wasn't like he couldn't get any more.

Once or twice was alright. It was just Mel being Mel. But it _does_ get to you after a while.

"But you know that I'm the only one who eats Cadbury around here?"

"Oh sod off, the world doesn't always revolve around you, you know!"

_I don't even usually say things like that._

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

He totally lost it, and grabbed me by the collar. And all I did was limiting his movements by taking hold of his wrists.

"You stuck-up little gobslutch. Just because you think you're so much better than everyone else here doesn't give you the right to fuck around."

"I did _not_ fuck around. All I said was..."

"Exactly! That should be my line! The world doesn't revolve around you, oh fuck it, the world doesn't bow at your bloody feet, Neiar!"

"Get off me."

"Not until you replace my chocolate."

"Look Mel..."

"Mello! Neiar! Stop at once! The both of you!"

Roger shouted across the room, and we both knew better than to continue.

That night I had a dream about Mellina. Not that it was any consolation.

Instead, I felt a disaster coming.

_Because out of everyone here, I like Neiar the most._

And I actually _believed_ those words!

But then again, it was 5 years ago.

This Mel said the exact opposite things. I _hate you. If I was drowning somewhere and you were the last person on earth, I prefer drowning. I hate the way you show off like that. I hate the way you act like you're better than everyone else. I hate the way you play with your hair. Stuck-up bitch. Lazy sod. Arrogant arse. Attention whore. Gobslutch. Raspberry._

I've heard it all. Every single swear word you can find in the English Dictionary. If it wasn't in there, Mel would be more than happy to invent one.

But again, at least he was honest.

And I'd rather have days filled with blatant in-your-face attacks than anything else.

Days then turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months.

Once, Mello totally went berserk on me over a stupid little report. We had to do a minor research paper that week for classical history. I could still remember the topic, we were supposed to compare between Roman and Greek mythical gods. And we both failed it because apparently our reports were almost identical the teacher accused us of plagiarising each other's work.

There was no other explanation except that we both happened to use the exact same book and browsed the exact same website.

And intellectual coincidence. If there _was_ such a phrase.

Which was also around the time when I noticed Mel was starting to wear a rosary-type thing. I had no idea where he got it from or if he really was a Catholic, but he had this sudden fascination with crosses and the likes. Sometimes he had it around his neck, sometimes his wrists. Maybe he had always had a fascination with rosaries, I just never noticed.

It made things _worse_.

Ironically I was the only one on the boat.

And that definitely did it.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you!" Mel was growling and shoving me to random directions.

"Please, don't flatter yourself." I pushed him back.

"Stuck up son of a bitch!" he backed me into a wall right beside one of the bookshelves in the leisure room and spat the next array of profanities in my face.

His maniacal glare and monstrous pale face never ceased to stun me. Although over the years I've gotten used to it, they still send shivers down my spine at times.

Especially when you were _this_ close to him.

"Get off me!" I shoved him away and he tightened his grip. Our struggles only forced us both into a dodgy position which took the balance off and backed us into a corner.

It was me who landed on the floor first. The next thing I knew we were a tangled heap on the warm carpeted surface covered with books, magazines and newspapers. I was sure everyone in the orphanage could've heard the train of banging noises.

"Urgh!" I heard Mel struggling on top of me, and I noticed a cut on his arm.

"I told you to get off me."

"Shut yer gob." And he all but grabbed my collar again, pinning me down with his whole weight. His hard and bony figure pressed down hard, hurting my chest. His breath was hot against my face and tinged with a faint smell of chocolate...but the rest of him was cold.

"Mel..."

When he leaned closer to my face I didn't see Mel.

Those eyes...

I almost saw the other Mel.

_Neiar, Neiar._

Stop!

_Neiar..._

His rosary was dangling around his neck, the crucifix pendant swaying back and forth in my face.

_I have something for you._

No...

_I want you to keep this._

The cross...

I said, stop!

I must've said that out loud because I saw a slight glint of surprise in his eyes. I kicked and hit around like I never did before, sending him rolled over to his back.

It wasn't like we never got into a physical fight before.

We continued to struggle for a little while amongst the literary objects, but I was pretty sure it wasn't that long because pretty soon I felt myself being dragged up by a whole bunch of kids and the same thing happening to Mel. We spent the rest of the night cleaning the whole leisure room.

And that was the start of something disastrous.

That night for some reason I had a bit of a fever, and I dreamt about what I thought I'd successfully got over in the past 5 years.

Turned out that I hadn't completely forgotten it.

I wish I had, though.

But what could I do? I guess things that happened in your childhood years tend to haunt you for life.

It was just another blustering autumn day, and as soon as Mrs.Cartwright, the dormitory head said something along the lines of "We have a visitor today", everyone was suddenly at their best behaviour.

Because it could only mean one thing. One of us _might_ get adopted. Which was by far one of the best things that could happen to anyone in an orphanage. Save for the prospect of leaving behind those you've grown close to at the orphanage. I knew that every single one of us secretly wished to be one of those lucky ones. But to stand the chance, you had to be, well...special.

I'd be lying if I said I'd hate to be adopted. I mean, I wasn't all obsessed over it, but if I _did_ get adopted, it wasn't like I'd say no.

And apparently that day I was going to be one of the lucky ones.

Well, _almost._

"What's your name, lad?"

He was a friendly gentleman, with a bit of an Irish accent, probably in his early forties.

"Neiar, Sir."

"Why, Neiar, what unusual name you have there." Then he went on to introduce himself, and told me the tragic story of how his wife and two kids died in an accident.

I never forgot his name. Mr.O'Donaughue.

He then left me to have a chat with Mrs.Cartwright, and I briefly overheard her mentioning how intelligent I was and how I was 'special' and blah blah blah.

Suddenly it made me think of Mel. What if that gentleman _did_ decide to adopt me? What if I _really_ was going to leave this place?

And leave _her_?

Can't he adopt Mel as well? So we can be _step-siblings_?

What the hell was I thinking?

"Neiar!"

This time she really _was_ there. It wasn't just in my head.

She was standing by the door to my room. And I was still fiddling around with my jigsaw pieces.

"Mel?"

She shuffled inside and sat right beside me. "I heard that gentleman was talking to Mrs.Cartwright."

"It's not really nice to eavesdrop, you know, Mel." I said dryly. _Well, what was I supposed to say?_

"I heard him talking about adopting you."

She searched my eyes and I nervously glanced at her. There was a look in her face which I couldn't quite explain. Maybe not as a 10-year-old. But even now I didn't know what it was.

"Well, um..."

"Congratulations, hey." she said.

"Look Mel, I still don't know..."

"Well, supposed it really happens...I'm happy for you."

I looked at her dumbly, and I think I felt a smile crept up my face.

"I will miss you, though."

Suddenly swallowing became abit tricky.

"I...know."

_I wish we could leave this place together as brothers and sisters..._

I remembered thinking that.

There was a dramatic silence for a moment. "Well, in case you really _are_ leaving this place..."

"Hm?"

She reached into her skirt pockets, and took out something shiny...and expensive-looking. "I have something for you."

It was a necklace, with a crucifix pendant. It looked rather large or lengthy to be a necklace. It was more like a simplified version of a rosary. The cross was a brilliant silvery colour, the afternoon light reflected on it created an ethereal glint, adding to its holy appearance.

I must've been mesmerised for quite a while as I've never seen a piece of jewellery in real life before, only in books. It must've been quite dear too.

"I want you to keep this." Was the next thing I heard Mel said.

"Mel, I can't possibly..."

"Neiar, please..." There was something about the way she said it that totally silenced me. She took my hand in hers, set the necklace in my palms and clasped her hand on top of it.

"Thank...you..."

"Just...don't forget me, alright?" she said sheepishly.

I didn't know what to do. Or say.

So I _kissed_ her. Quickly. Nervously. _Discreetly._

I'd like to think that all 10-year-olds would kiss that way.

Her lips were paper-dry and cold. But her smell was unmistakably Mellina.

"Never."

Her smile widened. And I think mine did as well.

"I'll never forget you."

And I've kept my word. Even until _now_.

Although I wish I didn't have to.

But it was for an entirely different reason.

Mellina, sweet little Mellina. Mellina with her blonde hair and her innocent face and doll-like wide eyes and sweet English smell and her toffees and her cross necklace. Back then, that was all that mattered to me.

All I could think of was the fact that I didn't have anything to give her back.

To _my_ Mel.

My only friend.

What more could a 10-year-old orphan think of? Want? Need?

But things were never as simple as a 10-year-old's image of life.

Because that night, when Mrs.Cartwright barged into my room and demanded for a cross necklace, I couldn't say a word.

Because when that Irish gentleman-who was suddenly not so gentle anymore-looked at me with utter anger when he saw it dangling around my neck, I was as confused as a lost dog.

"You stole this from Mr.O'Donaughue." Mrs.Cartwright said it with a sad face, and forced me to take it off.

"Neiar, we never taught you to steal from anyone."

I must've gone temporarily mute.

"Wh-what? I didn't know...I got that from Mel!" I stammered when I finally found my voice back.

But it didn't change a thing. Both adults were still looking at me coldly.

"What are you talking about? Mellina was the one who told us that she saw it in your room. Mr.O'Donaughue had been looking for it for hours!"

"Mrs.Cartwright, Sir, I swear..."

"Could you just give me that back? It has quite a sentimental value for me," Mr.O'Donaughue's words were the last thing I heard before he looked at me with a look that spoke a mixture of perplex and disappointment.

"Neiar, we are going to talk about this tonight. Now you stay in your room and you are not going anywhere until further notice."

"But..."

SLAM!

The next thing I discovered was the fact that Mellina had been adopted by Mr.O'Donaughue shortly after the incident.

I never saw either of them ever again since then.

And by the next day, the news about Neiar the Jewellery Snatcher had spread around the entire house.

At one stage, I even believed it. Everyone else was so convinced that I was a lying bastard that I almost believed what they were saying was true and my own memory somehow got screwed up.

A mere denial of the truth. _She set me up._

So I kept saying to myself.

But until now, _that_ was the only way _I_ remembered it.

Everything else was a blur after that until somehow I ended up being transferred to the Quillsh Wammy House. It was way better than the gloomy house where Mellina was. I rarely saw Mr.Wammy himself, but his counterpart, Roger was very kind to me. He said whatever happened in the past should stay there.

It _did_ stay there.

Until Mello came along.

But at least he never hid anything from me...or anyone. I think it would've scared me more if he was acting otherwise.

I personally never intended to ignite a silent but bitter rivalry between us. But once I accidentally did it I just couldn't stop.

Science. Maths. Languages. History. Art. Everything.

All the things that Mel aced, I could do better.

Maybe he outdid me in P.E, but everything else, I was always first in line.

Whether it was a subconscious attempt on torturing a mere memory of Mellina in my head or simply a way to avoid boredom was beyond me.

But there was no mistaking the flicker of satisfaction and warm feeling that I got everytime Mel looked at his work and then mine with bewilderment. Or when the whole class flocked around me to compare their work to mine or ask for tips on how to pass the next assessment task.

His eyes never left me. Even when we were in the classroom concentrating on our work, I could feel the sting of his icy stare behind me from the corner of the room.

And the fact that the teacher often point to me when both Mel and I put our hands up to answer a question didn't make it any better either.

But I knew that deep down, I was smiling.

Until that night.

I remembered it like the back of my hand. I remembered it like a recurring nightmare.

For some reason, the history teacher had assigned us to work together on a project. And we all knew it was a war waiting to happen.

The library was more than quiet at 9.30PM. And the fact that Mel was always the last one down had been common knowledge. The librarian even trusted him to lock up and take care of some duties. Because no matter how much of an arrogant, intimidating and foul-mouthed yob he can be, his academic record and his involvement with all school-related activities were near-perfect. And he'd always done his given tasks brilliantly and responsibly.

Not that it made it any easier for us to get along.

The tension between us was obvious from the very first moment we met.

And that made him _fascinating_. So fascinating that I just had to make him tick at every chance I got.

Maybe if he weren't around I would've gone mad.

But it wasn't any different now that he _was_ around.

"Neiar, how many times do I have to bloody tell you that this is not what we're looking for! The Marie Antoinette affairs are completely irrelevant to this aspect of the French Revolution!"

Mel was sitting on the table beside me while I was flicking through books on the near-by shelf.

"But she was the one who pretty much drove the country bankrupt in the first place and lead the people to revolt against the monarchs...lest you forget." I didn't bother to even look at him.

"Yeah well, but this book is totally irrelevant, we're supposed to be focusing on the economical aspect!"

"It's there, Mel! Have you read the book?"

"Have _you_ read the book, Neiar! It's pretty much a cheesy romance novel!"

"It has details of her expenses and so the royal family's finances!"

I was irritated as hell, but suppressed it anyway.

"Well then since you love the book so much why don't y_ou_ go find it!"

"I've compiled the economical structure, remember? It's your turn to link the expenses by the monarch that lead to the Revolution."

"Oh yeah? And why is that? Because _you_ said so? Because you're so much better than everyone around that you can boss me around and do this report on _your_ terms only? What am I, your bitch! Get real!" He shifted his leg and deliberately made a loud noise on the table.

"Oh stop being such a yob!"

"And stop being such a stuck-up little twit!"

I turned to look at him briefly, then went back to flicking through a copy of _J.J Rousseau: The Contract of the People._

"Look, we are doing a report on the French Revolution, focusing on the economical aspect, alright!"

"Yes, but we are not doing a report on Marie Antoinette's sex life!"

"I should've known that's all there is in your head."

I didn't even know how I discovered that sentence.

"What's_ that_ supposed to mean?"

"If your mind wasn't so pre-occupied with all that vulgarity, you would've appreciated the book to be more relevant."

"Are you calling me a slag, Neiar?"

"I never said that."

"What's that got to do with anything!"

"I said I never said that! Look, what is your bloody problem with me! I never have anything against you, Mello."

It was so Mel. I should've never taken him seriously. I didn't know what made me stupid enough to let him get to me.

"Why, look at me, Mr.Self-Righteous. 'I don't know anything'. 'I'm innocent'. 'I'm perfect'. 'I'm so much better than everyone else'."

"Shut it." The rest, I could only manage a long sigh.

"You may fool everyone else with all your perfect, prestigious bollocks. But you don't fool me."

"I'm not listening to any of your irrelevant bollocks either, Mel."

"You think I don't know, do you? My my, what a surprise, our perfect Neiar's dirty little secret."

"You're babbling nonsense."

"I know what you did, my little Neiar..."

"Wow, I'm _so_ interested," I replied sarcastically.

"I heard some interesting story about how you were almost adopted before you came here..."

He was fiddling with his rosary beads. _I really wish I could tell him to stop._

"I'm not listening to you." I even almost managed a loud scoff.

"Why hello, Mr.Jewellery Snatcher..."

_I will miss you, though._

_I want you to keep this._

_Neiar, we never taught you to steal from anyone._

Stop!

I said, STOP!

I didn't even know whether I said that out loud or not. I must've lost consciousness briefly, because the next thing I knew I had my hands around Mel's neck, pinning him down on the table.

I've never even knelt on a table before.

"Ne...Neiar..." he gripped my wrists tight, a pained expression on his face, but his wild and insane eyes looking straight back at me said it all.

_I was right, wasn't I?_

NO!

"You don't know shit about me, Mello."

I remembered saying that.

"Well, lookey lookey, our perfect Neiar's finally lost it!" he still managed to spew out the sentence...

SLAP!

"Don't fuck with me!"

That was all the more reason for him.

_I should've known better._

A sudden burning pain around my chest area forced me to fall off the table as Mel successfully planted his kick on me.

Dragging himself off the table, a homicidal glare in his eyes, I could see him wiping a drop of blood from the corner of his lips with the back of his hand.

I did _that_?

"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, Neiar."

I had my two hands holding my chest as I tried to get my breathing back to normal, not realising that Mel was already stepping closer towards me.

_So try me._

With a demonic strength that I knew was undeniably Mel's, he dragged me to the floor and pinned my wrists above my head.

"Ahh!"

I writhed and turned, struggling to get him off me, but Mel was just as strong as I was...if not, stronger.

"Let go..._Mello_!"

Instead, he took one hand off my wrists and held my chin in place, forcing me to look straight at him.

"Now you're gonna have to do better than that."

So I spat at him.

Mel spat back at me in the form of a profanity, followed by a loud...

SMACK!

And this time it was his turn to slap me, louder and harder than how I did before.

"Ack!"

I felt a sting around the corner of my mouth, followed by a salty metallic taste. Warm blood started to trickle down my chin...and I couldn't help but wince.

But what happened next was beyond my imaginations. Something wet, warm and slick was sliding down my chin line, cleaning my blood up...

_Mel was licking my blood off!_

"Mel, what the fuck...!"

I tried to get him off me, wriggling around, twisting away, but to no success.

And that was when I was taken over by something I've never known in my entire life before.

_What the..._

What Mel just did to me was like a switch that turned something on deep inside me, waking up a monster that had been sleeping all along. It was totally new, totally alien to me. I didn't know whether it was good or bad, but one thing I was sure of, it was somewhat...enticing. It made my blood boil, like there was a chain of electrical impulses running through me uncontrollably, in multiple directions.

I suddenly felt...hot. Even though the room was rather cold. The heater had been turned off for quite a while.

_What are you doing to me, Mel!_

My eyes snapped shut, and to my dismay, I saw Mellina's face in the distance. I realised that she was probably the very first person who have come to the closest physical distance to me. I remembered kissing her...

_Why am I thinking about this now, for God's sakes!_

I forced my eyes back open and I could still see Mello peering down at me, as if he could see everything.

Even inside my thoughts.

_Mel..._

_Neiar, Neiar..._

I wanted to...to...what? What is it that I wanted to do?

When I looked up, he was licking his lips blissfully, a drop of blood escaping from one corner of his mouth. It was like...

"You taste so sweet, my dear Neiar..."

...an invitation.

When nature took its course, I was all too weak to resist.

I so wanted to say it wasn't me. But it was my hands that pulled Mel back down, it was my lips that pressed against his chin, it was my tongue that ran up to his mouth and tasted blood.

Was it his? Or mine? Is there any difference?

I felt him stiffened against me.

It was so..._intimate._

Then I realised that the only thing closest to this that I've ever experienced before was kissing Mellina when I was 10.

Of course, this was far from that.

This was...worse? Or _better_?

When I realised that the drive to continue within me was beyond outsmarting my logical thought processes, all inhibitions had gone out the window.

"Why Neiar, never thought you had it in you..." he whispered against my ear.

One by one, things started sinking in. This wasn't some silly incident that randomly happens to 10-year-olds. I was 15 now, and for all I knew, Mel was the same age as me. And to think that I was now _this_ close to him. He was a strange paradox, a mixture of femininity and masculinity. He had a sharp, rough and bony feel to his body yet his hair was feather soft, and his skin was silky smooth. He smelled...oddly good, rather girly.

_Mel..._

And that was when I realised I wanted to feel more of it. More of him.

Before I could think of my next move, Mel's lips started nibbling at my ear, which grew into naughtier teasing, turning into wet licks and suckling.

"Ahh!"

I shivered involuntarily, feeling ticklish, hot and feverish all at the same time. I couldn't quite find the right words to describe it, but at the moment I've got other things to worry about than finding the right words. Meanwhile, his hands gradually lost its grip around my wrists.

Why was Mel doing this to me?

But within seconds, the question turned to 'Why does it feel so..._pleasurable_?'

I wanted...more. From him. Of him. All over him.

So when I yanked Mel's hair and turned his head to face me, I didn't give him a chance to make any noise.

_Thank...you..._

_Just...don't forget me, alright?_

Like then, I kissed Mel.

But I surely didn't kiss Mello the way I kissed Mellina when I was 10.

I was surprised at my own audacity, wondering where did all that skill come from. I shoved my tongue in, molesting his mouth, drawing his hot breath into me. I tasted chocolate in his thick saliva, and it made me want him even more. And like a hungry animal, Mel responded, even more fiercely, as if not wanting to let me take control.

Well, I wasn't going to let him either.

ZRASH!

With all the strength left in me, I pushed him back, forcing him to fall back and rolled over so I was on top of him. Books and notes were thrown all over us, and I was pretty sure Mel was lying on top of a few books and notes as I felt one of my feet digging into a piece of paper.

"Uhh..."

He was hot, and every single one of his breath that seeped into my system was like a shot of life. An intoxicating force, maddening desire that left me wanting even more. This was Mello, his very breath, his very essence that was wild and wanton, violent and evil as it was.

The next thing I noticed was his slipping grip on my shoulder sleeves, which I wasn't sure how long it's been there for.

I pulled away from him to catch some breath, and when I looked down I saw what I thought I'd never see from him.

This was Mello, all of him, blatant and exposed beneath me. It was written all over his face. His dark eyes wide open and staring back at me, mad with desire. His pale face, framed by his platinum blonde hair, showed a streak of pink. His usually pale lips, now red and swollen, glistening with a mix of our saliva and blood.

I remembered thinking, I'd never get to see him as whole as he is now.

And it was all my doing.

_Mel..._

Before I had enough of the view, I heard him wrapping his hands around the back of my head and forced me back down, to his waiting hot mouth. This time, he invaded me with more vigour, more passion than before. It was as if his tongue was growing larger in my mouth.

_Do I want this?_

_Do I want you, Mel?_

He pulled back for a second and snickered. "You dirty little slag."

I didn't listen and continued devouring him. This time, my mouth trailed down to his chin, down the curve of his neck as I let him arching back against me, exposing more of that pale flesh to my waiting lips.

He was feverishly hot, I could almost detect his pulses and heartbeats racing and rattling beneath his sensitive skin.

"Aahhh..."

As my head went lower, my hands stayed up, reaching for whatever I could find and I let out a small sound as I felt him taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, biting slightly.

I realised that I've pulled Mel's black shirt down to its limit, and if I wanted to get more flesh, I realised I'm gonna have to...

And that was when I spotted his rosary-style necklace.

_I want you to keep this..._

_Mel, I can't possibly..._

No!

I said, NO!

"What's the matter big boy, can't handle your own little demons?" Mel's sharp whispers taunted me and I pretended not to hear by yanking his shirt off, leaving his glittering rosary dangling across pale flesh.

And he did the same to my white shirt.

The cool air around us started settling in, and as I felt goosebumps starting to form around my skin, it forced me to press closer against Mel. As his rosary dug into my skin, I ignored the prospect of getting a cross-shaped mark on my chest by the end of it all.

He was warm, moving, and writhing beneath me...and very much enjoying tasting me. I was beginning to enjoy it more myself. His fingers reamed through my back, along the base of my spinal cord, and then back up again. His touches were...comfortable. And it generated warmth that I needed so much to fight the cold.

Now what?

Mel's next actions answered my questions. Like a boy possessed, he got up slightly off the ground and buried his head in my neck, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting every inch of my skin. One of his arm came up behind my neck, and played with my hair. I involuntarily arched up to his touches, wanting to get more...

I never thought the Mello I knew all this time could generate this kind of feelings by his touches...

"Ohh..."

Before I knew it, Mel's head went lower and he caught a nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue along, drawing it into his mouth, and sucking it like a little infant would do to its nurturing mother.

But there was nothing infant about him. And there was nothing nurturing about me.

Not when every single contact with Mel at the moment shot straight between my legs.

_This_ was what it was all about. _This_ was what it all boiled down to.

Like a little boy who've just discovered lust in his life, I grabbed hold on to Mel and ran my hand down his body.

_Did he feel the same?_

Was it doing to him the same way it was doing to me?

What _did_ I feel anyway?

It was...indescribable...purely instinctual..._hormonal_...

Sure, I've had wet dreams before.

Sure, I've felt the aching need to please myself and demanded release.

But it was no more than...a straight-forward biological process. It wasn't ignited by anything...concrete.

This was so much more. There was someone else involved. Someone who brought sparks into my soul. Someone feeding my needs and sharing his lust with mine. I never thought Mel was capable of bringing all this...desire into me. It was juvenile, raw and instinctive sexual energy.

And I'm drowning in it.

Suddenly everything became faster. I felt myself moving alot quicker as the blood in me continued to boil and an insistent, aching urgency somewhere in me demanded for attention.

Mel was rubbing against me now. He hung on to me like I was his dear life and as his mouth continued its venture all over my body or at least as far as he could reach, I realised that...

...I _so_ wanted him to go lower.

Even lower than that.

I instinctively pushed his head down to where it felt the most uncomfortable.

I was so hard now I was in danger of coming in my pants anytime soon.

This time I was too powerless to do anything and Mel saw his chance to push me back down beneath him.

I caught a better glimpse of him and realised that he was just as helpless as I was. His platinum blonde hair tousled, his eyes now half-closed, his breaths coming in short rags, and the unmistakable bulge between his legs...

And he knew just what I wanted him to do. When his lips came crushing down on me and the warmth of his chest came into contact with mine along with his cold and sharp rosary, I had no choice but to kiss him back just as hard. My hands wrapped around him, running along his back, his spine, down to just above the slight curve of his bottom. Still, I want him to do more...

_Touch me... _

He went back to kissing me all over, then down to my neck, to my chest and down my stomach. When his silky smooth hair rubbed against my belly button, I couldn't help but arching back as the sensation sent a sharp jolt to my already aching erection.

"Mel..."

It was like he knew just what to do. A sudden sharp noise of a zipper being pulled down had me alternatively marvelling and dreading.

This was wrong, I knew that. But like any of us care at this moment.

It was so wrong, sinful...taboo...yet I couldn't stop. And I don't think Mel could either.

When he kissed me back, it felt like he clogged up my brain, blocking out everything else. All there was was the darkness, the lust, and this creature that Mel was, giving me pleasure like I've never felt before.

I wanted to make him feel the way he made me feel.

I realised I wanted to break him.

His smooth skin was hot and heavy against mine, twisting and rattling with ragged breaths and heartbeats.

And it scared me more than it normally does. When it was just our daily bickering and other things, all I saw was hate and sharp threats in his eyes. We were simply rivals, always on each other's case, always on each other's minds.

And now, we were doing things to each other that we should probably never do. It scared me more now that I was getting addicted to it.

It was..._complicated._

I was so aroused beyond anything I could hardly think except anticipating what Mel would do next. And I got my answer as he tugged on my pants and pulled them down, exposing my aching and throbbing flesh to the cold air.

_Touch me..._

What I got instead was a tight grip. I let out an involuntary gasp.

It was so intense it almost hurt...but so good at the same time.

A sudden bite around my stomach area distracted me for a second. Mel was feasting on my skin in the most devilishly delicious way possible...I never wanted him to stop.

He was so good at this! Teasing, pleasuring, and then back to teasing again.

I felt a cold and sharp object brushing against my sensitive flesh down there...Mel's rosary. And I writhed a bit.

Stop teasing and just get on with it already!

Adding to the discomfort, Mel lifted his head up and looked down on me once again, his piercing gaze penetrating me...making me suddenly uncomfortable in the heat of my sinful arousal.

"Well, look at you, Neiar," he breathed the words, sensually and tauntingly.

Without further ado, he shifted lower and took my aching flesh in his wet little mouth.

"Unghhh..."

It was like nothing like I've ever sensed before. Every single movement he did with his mouth sent spasms all over me, and the heated pool of protein grew wider down there, it was like a pot full of boiling water spilling out its content everywhere.

With each and every thrust I made, he covered it really well in his mouth. The way he applied the pressure, interchanging between long licks and swirls, short sucks and playful nibbles, it was so Mel. Forceful, wild, unpredictable yet intriguing, leaving a deep impression within me.

I felt my head thrashing from side to side, my hips moving by its own volition as Mel continued to work me up in irregular but heavenly rhythms. Where the hell did he learn the art of fellatio? Was it just one of his oral fixations that was normally manifested in his seemingly never-ending feast on chocolate bars? Was I just another one of his indulgences, his chocolate bars?

Not that I had a problem with it.

His sucks suddenly became harder and faster, his grip tightening around the tip and he stopped there for a moment.

_God, Mel..._

Don't stop. Just _don't._

_Neiar...Neiar._

No, not now.

_I've missed you._

I thrusted harder, indicating to Mel to go deeper and harder.

Suddenly I got reminded of the random few occasions where I've played with myself and thinking about Mellina.

Would she be as skilful had she been the one doing these things to me?

"Aaahhh..." I gave out an involuntary gasp, burying my hands in Mello's silky soft blonde locks.

_I wonder what it would be like if it was Mellina who..._

"Oohh..."

_That little bitch ought to serve me like this._

"Unh..." I heard myself growling.

_I should be on top of her as she takes me up her little hole..._

"Fuck! Mel!"

And I knew I was getting closer and closer to the edge.

I so wanted to savour the moment for longer. I so wanted to last as long as I could.

But I was only 15. And this was the first time anyone's ever given me head. So when Mel's hand trailed down under my critical erection and teased my balls hard, I totally lost it.

"Mmmhhh...aahhhh!" Within seconds, waves of intense ecstasy engulfed me as I felt my hot white essence escaping me, and straight into Mel's mouth.

One...two, shots and I laid there panting, feeling my whole body shivering slightly, covered with sweat.

I heard Mel spitting loudly, and from the rattling sounds of paper I could pretty much tell how he cleaned up the mess.

_Shit, that was... _

Mel was still between my legs, running his fingers around my belly button, and I could feel his breath warm against my crotch.

I haven't even finished catching up to my breath when he suddenly pulled my legs up and started kneeling up.

I must've passed out or refused to relive the memory because the last thing I've heard was "Now it's your turn to serve me, you little slag," before everything turned black.

The next thing I remembered was waking up with a terrible sore down there, both front and back, and then noticing that I was already half-hard...again.

Mel was lying beside me, one leg ignorantly slung across mine, my white shirt covering half his bare chest. He looked so pale, tiny and frail. His shiny rosary was still draped over his chest, tilted sideways, and it was moving up and down along with his breaths.

There was something terribly erotic about this view. How the supposed symbol of purity and holiness looked like a futile attempt of covering up his sinful presence. His angelic platinum blonde hair was the only thing left after falling from grace.

And it aroused me...like nothing ever before.

I wanted to break him again.

Like how I wanted to do it to Mellina too. But this time, strangely, all I saw was Mello.

The object of my desire.

Like a possessed animal, I got up and grabbed him by the shoulders, laid him down on the table and attempted to repeat every single thing he did to me. He was naked on top, except for his rosary, and his pants were clinging dangerously low around his slim hips.

He woke up slowly, his bedroom eyes suddenly replaced by surprise and alert of the terror soon to come. He tried to twist away from me but I was at an advantage, being more awake and alert. Without wasting any time, I yanked his pants down, immediately pulling his legs up and apart. My weeping erection was still sticky from our earlier coupling and beads of cum was still left from before, and I figured that would have to do.

Slowly pushing my half-erection up Mel's virginal hole, it instantly made my aching length grow completely.

"Neiar...no! Ah! Aoww!"

Mel's painful moans just went straight past me. I kept pushing deeper and deeper, as his fingers dug into my arms, bracing himself, at the same time spitting out all sorts of profanities.

He was so tight, deliciously so, almost painful as it completely engulfed my manhood.

His legs wrapped around my neck as I started to move in and out of him in short, quick strokes, sending pulses of pain and pleasure right into him.

"Neiar...shit, aaaahhhh!"

Mel thrashed and writhed beneath me, sending books and papers flying off the table. He gritted his teeth, his tangled blonde locks falling around his head in a mess. His face was red with lust and agony, his skin feverishly hot against mine. His rosary fell back to his face, and soon enough, he was biting into the cross.

The sight was...indescribable.

_That little bitch deserved it._

"Mmmhh...oooohhh..Nei..."

_Just like back then._

I continued thrusting into him, drawing out ragged breaths everytime I pull out, sending shivers down my own spine everytime his tight heat swallowed me whole.

Like before, I wasn't any better at lasting very long.

So I came. Just like that. Not as much as before. One shot, but it was hard and messy. I vaguely saw some of my essence splattering on Mel's flushed face.

That's it. _Taste_ me.

_I want you to remember me for the rest of your life._

_You dirty little slag._

I couldn't even remember when Mel came. I wasn't helping the process one bit. Although I was pretty sure I kissed him briefly at one stage.

But all I can remember is, that was the last time ever that I thought about Mellina.

_WASHINGTON DC, USA, 2009._

"Neiar."

"What is it, Agent Lester?"

The tall man holding a piece of paper came up to me.

"That man in the photo you were looking for..."

I felt a glint of excitement speeding up my spine.

"Yes?"

"We might have some leads to his whereabouts...if you'd like to have a look..."

I took the piece of paper and skimmed through.

Interesting.

"Agent Lester?"

"Yes?"

"This is to be kept strictly confidential."

"I understand."

END OF PART 1


	2. Chapter 2

_WARNINGS: WARNINGS: Rated NC-17/R-18 (whatever it is depending on your country of origin), yaoi (boy x boy sex), OC, random OOC-ness, made-up past memoirs, some coarse language, some violence, graphic & explicit under-aged sexual content. _

_MELLO:_

_WINCHESTER, UK, 2005._

Those eyes were always looking at me.

But they never really _see_ me.

It was like they were looking through me.

That was years ago.

And when I saw them in him too, I thought...not again.

I thought those eyes were never to appear in my life again.

"Mello, I want you to say hello to Neiar." I remembered how Roger introduced us.

"Hi. Neiar."

"Hi. Mello. Pwissed to meet you." I think I said something unintelligent like that and I could recall a look of disappointment in Roger's face.

And Neiar turned away. I couldn't even see his eyes. Whether I liked it or not, somewhere in my subconscious I must've expected some sort of reaction out of him. But he refused to even look at me.

It was either disappointment or lack of knowledge. Their eyes were pointing in my direction but they saw right through me.

Except maybe that one time.

I must've been about 12 or 13.

"You are special, Mel. Because God created you special."

Father Samuel's eyes were impossibly light blue, and he looked impossibly young, particularly considering the fact that he had platinum white hair. He had always looked at me in a way that was somewhat unnerving...but at least I knew he wasn't just randomly looking at my direction. He _really_ saw me.

No one ever knew his surname. Everyone just knew him as Father Samuel, who attentively looked after the garden around the church. Father Samuel, who was the favourite amongst the younger congregation. He couldn't have been older than 30.

Father Samuel was also the first person I remembered calling me Mel.

Neiar's hair had reminded me of Father Samuel's. The similarity of the colour was almost unreal.

Neiar with his painfully proper Mid-Southern accent, with a compulsion of twisting his hair around his fingers. His obsession with jigsaw puzzles and arranging anything his hands could reach.

But the way he acted, there was something condescending about him. Nothing like Father Samuel's.

I've always been dying to drag some sort of reaction out of him. Make him look at me in the eye, realise that something was able to get into him. To chase up to him. But I was never able to. No matter how hard I tried.

Neiar didn't even need to do anything. And those eyes, half-hidden under his curtain of silvery curls, hardly ever sees me.

It was so unfair.

And the fact that I was the only one who knew about his secret obsession about outdoing my every move didn't make the situation any better.

He thought I didn't know.

But I knew.

His acting all-innocent didn't do it for me.

Neiar was not like how everyone at the House thought he was. To everyone, Neiar was the calm and collected genius, and Mello was the somewhat-intelligent trouble-maker.

I thought that too, until the day we got one of our tests back. Neiar scored 2 marks above me, and he was secretly smiling. It wasn't just a smile. It was an evil, domineering smile. There was a certain satisfaction to him beating me. And it was one of his entertainment apart from his jigsaw puzzles. He wasn't like that with the other kids.

And those _eyes_.

It was just me.

I've given up trying to figure out what it was that made him so obsessed on watching me defeated. He was enjoying every bit of it, and he was doing it on purpose.

So when the night comes and the lights came off, I didn't want to think about Neiar. But his platinum silver hair kept lingering in my head even when I closed my eyes and it inevitably reminded me of Father Samuel again.

Back then, Father Samuel was the only one who didn't see me with those same eyes. The looks that kept haunting me until now.

Like the look in Neiar's eyes.

I recalled secretly going to the local chapel where Father Samuel was, preferably not on a Sunday, where there was hardly anyone there, kneeling down in front of the Mother Mary statue, wishing and praying that those eyes would just go away.

Those very same eyes I saw at home everyday. But no, I didn't want to think about that now.

All I wanted was to pray and hope God listened to me.

And God's answer was always Father Samuel.

He would sit with me, talked to me about all sorts of things, about Jesus Christ, about nature, the Royal family, the war, even the September 11 tragedy. And I would listen with such fascination. Because back then Father Samuel's chapel was probably the only place where I didn't need to see those eyes.

Once, he even gave me this stunning rosary. With real silver crucifix and expensive-looking beads.

"_You are special, Mel. Because God created you special."_

I never ever doubted him.

I believed everything Father Samuel said.

So when he started to sit really close to me everytime or just after I prayed, I didn't think it was unusual.

When he started touching me more than usual, I thought that was just him showing how much he cared for me.

When he started to put his arms around me and breathed in the smell of my hair, I didn't suspect anything.

I remembered feeling warm, comfortable, protected and _loved_. So loved I didn't know it was inappropriate.

But now...

"Mello!" the sudden snap from Ms.Cassera, the science teacher, startled both me and Linda. She was one of the most artistically talented kids around and I couldn't help looking at her doing some random sketches in the middle of working on a worksheet about flower reproduction.

"Yes, Miss..." I said in a bored tone.

"You're staying back after class."

"But..."

"And Linda, give me those papers now."

There was no arguing Ms.Cassera. It turned out that she only wanted to discuss my recent lab report about plant classification, which I scored 3 marks below Neiar. And she knew _just_ how to twist the knife.

"Mello, if you were paying more attention in class instead of looking over Linda's sketches, you could've obtained full marks, just like Neiar."

"I _was_ paying attention, Miss Cassera. And I've finished my work."

"You and Neiar are the top two in class. You just have to learn to be more...focused." She peered at me from behind her 60s style glasses.

Yeah, whatever.

"You just _have_ to show off, don't you, you vain sod?"

He didn't budge and kept fiddling around with his stupid jigsaw puzzle. But I knew in his heart he was laughing at me.

Why won't he even look at me?

"Feh. Stupid geezers just came off me. But so what?"

Those blank, uncaring eyes that never faze even at the most brutal attacks. Maybe he needed to hear it. Maybe I needed to make him understand.

"Well one day 'e'll come off you too."

It was the silence that killed me more than anything. If I was to be annihilated in any way, let it be a full head-on attack, rather than this agonising cold war.

I'd rather burn to death than freeze to death.

So that was it, then. If in some weird and twisted way he gets off on beating me, let it be with some sort of compensation afterwards. He always had this 'I never get why you are so hell-bent on outsmarting me' look. As if he didn't know better.

Like I said, it wasn't the actual fact of him defeating me. It was the fact that he didn't even need to try half as hard. And insensitively claimed all the prize.

Why it was bothering me so much, I wasn't sure myself.

_What was it about Neiar?_

Was it simply the fact that I so wanted to break that iceberg, the cold and uncaring presence, make him see me, make him..._intimidated_ by me?

I've done so to pretty much every single kid at Wammy's House. Why did one kid matter so much?

Why was Neiar so important?

Was it because his eyes bore an uncanny resemblance to this figure from many years ago that I was forced to see every single day?

To _her_?

"That's not true. God cares about you, Mel. So do I."

Father Samuel had said those words, many years ago.

"But they hardly ever talk to me."

"Sometimes people don't show how much they care for each other. It's one of the mysteries of life."

Oh yeah, it was a mystery, alright. But back then when Father Samuel stroke my hair and started running his fingers through my face all mysteries just went out the window.

I didn't understand it back then. But I knew it was out of the ordinary.

It was out of the ordinary when all you saw everyday as a 12 or 13-year old was nothing but unsympathetic eyes and you were longing for something different.

Maybe, just maybe, I was so curious on doing it to Neiar because back then I couldn't do it to her.

But all he was was a soulless, lifeless heap on the floor, unaware of everything around him. And that day was no different than any other day. It was the day when everyone at the House flocked around Neiar to catch a glimpse of his report result, and hoping to get some tips for future assessment tasks.

Everyone knew how I worked my head off for that report. Everyone knew about the sleepless nights I spent staring at the computer screen. And the headaches and muscle sores were the first ones to greet me in the morning.

Neiar didn't even need to lift a finger. He scored maximum marks with the minimum of effort.

So when I got irritable at one point when there was just the two of us in the library, and he offered "help", it infuriated me even more.

I just finished compiling some documents when the printer decided to start acting up and refused to deliver my papers.

BANG!

"Why won't this bloody thing behave!"

I swear the House could've afforded a better printer. Then Neiar reached out and tried to fiddle around with it.

So I snapped and shoved his hand aside. "Piss off! I don't need your help!"

And the fact that little 'coincidences' kept happening in between only made me more convinced that he really was out to get me.

Very convenient excuse. An aptly done play of fate. What a life.

It was also around this time that I accidentally rediscovered the rosary Father Samuel gave me. I thought I've lost it long time ago, or at least shortly after I was admitted to Wammy House. And that wasn't the only thing I found when I was searching through my old stuff one day. I found another necklace, with a simple crucifix pendant...which I've almost forgotten. It was the only thing left from the empty uncaring eyes I remembered so well.

_Those eyes never saw me._

_But they never left me either. _

"What does 'bastard' mean, Father Samuel?"

I remembered the kind sympathy on Father Samuel's face when I asked that question.

"It means...a child who was born out of wedlock."

Back then at that age I already knew about the whole birds and bees story so Father Samuel didn't really need to explain. And having been brought up in a predominantly Catholic environment, I just picked up on the whole 'conception out of wedlock is a sin' thing.

Not that I'm saying I'm a devout Catholic.

"They said I'm a 'bastard'. Does that mean I'm a sin, Father?"

I didn't really know what I was thinking at the time. All I knew was going home to those dead uncaring eyes wasn't on my mind.

"No, my dear Mello. It is those who performed the deed that committed the sin, but the child born from any deed under any circumstances is innocent and pure. They are already born baptised in the name of Christ."

"Even bastards like me?"

"My child, all children are God's children. And that includes you."

"Me?"

"Yes, Mel. You too." He nodded, looking at me with those eerie blue eyes again, which back then to me was nothing short of affection.

The next thing I knew he kissed my forehead.

There was no one at the chapel at that time of night. Father Samuel was the only priest on duty most of the time anyways.

So when he started kissing me in places other than my forehead then held up my hand, gesturing me to come into his resting room inside the chapel, I didn't refuse. The dim room didn't seem all too friendly at first, but I couldn't care less. All I saw was the ethereal blue-eyed, silver-haired priest.

"_I'll show you how much God loves you."_

I remembered hearing that from the distance, it was so unreal, it sounded like it didn't belong to this world. But I followed him in anyway.

"You're like a little angel...God's masterpiece, a gift to the world..."

I've never felt so adored. From a dreamy child's point of view, it probably wasn't so much a traumatic sexual experience. In fact, _sexual_ was probably one of the farthest adjective from it.

There was just...a lot of love. And adoration.

_Holy._

If I had to find one word to describe it, that would be it.

First, Father Samuel undressed me so carefully, like a mother about to shower her baby. I could still remember the setting, every single detail of them. A large icon of Mother Mary on one side of the room, right under a crucified Jesus Christ on the wall.

He noticed I was wearing the rosary he gave me, and left it on. Then he bathed me in what he said was the closest he could get to Holy Water. He also mentioned that I deserved nothing less than the Holy Water.

When I stepped into the water, it was just the right temperature, not too cold and not too hot either, the base of the small bath tub pressing hard against my skin.

_You're so beautiful, Mel._

Strangely, I didn't feel the slightest uneasy being totally naked in front of him, maybe partly because half my body was dipped in water anyway. He then grabbed the softest piece of cloth he could find, and washed me slowly, so slowly, as if I was a fragile piece of china.

One thing he never seemed to able to stop doing is drawing the scent of my hair. Even when he bathed me all over, he left my hair dry and buried his face in them.

The next thing I noticed was a faint sound of music filling the room. When I asked what it was, Father Samuel said it was one of his favourite album at the time, Harem by Sarah Brightmann.

_/Amplius lava me ab iniquitate mea.../_

As the opening choir started, he was kissing me again.

_/Et a peccato meo munda me.../_

And wrapped a towel around me as he lifted me up from the bath tub.

I felt myself being laid down on a rather hard mattress, but the sheets were so soft it was such a contrast.

_/Do you know, you're beautiful.../_

Right now it would simply look like sexual abuse to an underaged child.

_/Do you know, you're beautiful...you are, yes you are.../_

But Father Samuel didn't molest me. He didn't do anything to me that made me feel intimidated, let alone hurt. It felt like he was treating me like one of those trophies on his tabernacle, a holy sacrament.

I remembered being touched, caressed...explored. And all the while he was stroking my hair. Lying beside me, looking at me intently through his light blue eyes, was all he did for at least an hour. He touched me everywhere, and then kissed me all over. From the temples of my forehead, my hands, my chest, stomach, and down between my legs. But he never did anything beyond that.

I remembered shivering a bit, and feeling terribly ticklish, but I tried to hold still anyway. There was something about his aura that hypnotised me completely, part of me didn't want to disappoint him, part of me was curious about what sort of sensations he was about to bring me.

Father Samuel did everything but raped me. Seriously.

Even when he shoved my legs apart and kissed his way around he didn't do anything more than that.

But that wasn't all.

He suddenly produced a small package wrapped in silver and handed it to me.

"Here is a small treat for you. Enjoy it."

And when he ripped the silver paper away and fed me the delectable sweet, everything else was a blur.

The chocolate he gave me was high quality chocolate, not one of those cheap ones. And it was strange. Because it was like heaven, or whatever the hell people say to describe something unbelievably good it was unreal. Up to that point, what I remembered most until now would have to be the taste of the chocolate...deliciously insatiable...intoxicating...

That was probably the moment I found something called "comfort zone". This sweet little treat called chocolate wrapped it all up in one heavenly package.

There was no emptiness. No neglect. No pain, and no disappointments. There was only warmth, attention and sacred love.

And I was the centre of the sacrilege.

Father Samuel then fell asleep beside me, still holding my naked body until the wee hours of the morning. As soon as the sun started to rise, it was all over. All that was left from it was my half-eaten chocolate bar and the rosary.

Of course, when I learned later on what being touched like that by someone actually meant, I couldn't help but collapse of the degradation. I felt dirty, sinful and...revolting.

And the only thing that could drag me out of it was the taste of chocolate. The sweet treat was always there to comfort me. And it never betrayed me.

Unlike what happened after that. I should've known that for things like these, betrayal was always going to be on the table.

Because that was probably the last time I saw the warm and loving eyes of Father Samuel. I even almost tried to convince myself that the whole thing was a dream.

But the memories stayed. The sensations Father Samuel inflicted on me lingered on. Like ink dropped in a clear pool of water, the stain stayed forever. Like a deep wound, the scars stayed forever.

Only the chocolate blurred it all.

Even when it came the time where I discovered that I could please myself in other ways, I could never leave out the chocolate. Because when I touched myself, I didn't think of Father Samuel, but how whole I felt, by being reminded that I was not quite robbed of anything sexually.

So when the chocolate wasn't there, neither was the pleasure.

And to my further irritation, it led to the one thing I knew would always make me second best. Inferior. Worthless.

Neiar was the last thing I needed.

So when one day I accidentally left my chocolate on the leisure room table and found out Neiar had eaten it by the time I got back, I was close to getting a maximum-strength migraine.

"You just _have_ to eat my chocolate, don't you!"

"Look, it was on the table, in the playroom, and it bloody well didn't have your name labelled on it!"

I really wasn't in the mood for his shit. What the hell did he think I was, an idiot? _Of course_ he did it on purpose!

"But you know that I'm the only one who eats Cadbury around here?"

"Oh sod off, the world doesn't always revolve around you, you know!"

_He doesn't usually say that._

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

So when I grabbed his collar and he held my wrists back, it felt like the most natural thing ever.

"You stuck-up little gobslutch. Just because you think you're so much better than everyone else here doesn't give you the right to fuck around."

"I did _not_ fuck around. All I said was..."

Yeah, of course, because you think you're so much better than everyone else around, you can always get away with your bollocks excuses.

I _don't_ think so.

"Exactly! That should be my line! The world doesn't revolve around you, oh fuck it, the world doesn't bow at your bloody feet, Neiar!"

"Get off me."

_Make me._

"Not until you replace my chocolate."

"Look Mel..."

"Mello! Neiar! Stop at once! The both of you!"

Roger interfered just in time. Lucky bastard. I was _this_ close of smashing his head in.

And it just had to happen that the day after we both failed our classical history paper. That paper I wrote was brilliant, if it wasn't tampered by the fact that Neiar used the exact same resources as me and the teacher convicted us both of plagiarism.

Dumb whore. As if she didn't know that I'd never work together with him if he was the last human on earth.

The migraine Neiar gave me was turning into a cancer.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you!"

I had my hands on him, pushing and shoving his limp body to random directions. Neiar didn't usually fight back, but this time, he pushed me back.

"Please, don't flatter yourself."

_This little snob..._

"Stuck up son of a bitch!"

By then I could hear the loud slam caused by me backing him against the wall right beside a book shelf.

"Get off me!"

Our further struggling only made us crash into the bookshelf and toppled the whole thing over. Within seconds we were covered by books and magazines.

"Urgh!" I think I got a cut somewhere on my arm, but my attention was all snatched away by the feeling of Neiar beneath me, wriggling and trying to get me off him.

Idiot. Like I could do much about it in this kind of situation.

"I told you to get off me."

"Shut yer gob." There was something so oddly appealing about the way he was sprawled beneath me, all trapped and struggling to get away. So I all but grabbed at his collar while focusing all my weight down upon him. I so wanted to hear him struggling to breathe...

His face was only a few centimetres away from me...yet something about his wide yet hollow eyes was like a never-ending labyrinth of infinite emptiness...no emotions, no signs of life, no effect whatsoever. I was this close to him yet he was eons away.

I've always hated those kind of eyes.

It was like...it was like he was seeing right through me...something...or someone right behind me...maybe even inside my irises...

_Look at me!_

Compared to him, I definitely had more written all over my face...so what was he searching in my eyes? it was like he was comparing the depth of emotions I had with...what? Or _who_?

I'm here, dammit! Don't you dare trying to run away from me!

"Mel..."

I vaguely heard him mumbling something like that...before...

"St..."

Was he just about to say 'stop'?

The next thing I knew was being rolled over to my back and Neiar pinning me down under him. That eerie pale face, framed by the ethereal platinum silver hair...

So...lifeless. Empty.

_Like back then..._

I didn't want to remember.

But then for a split second, something caught me. Something that I've never seen in Neiar before.

We weren't buried there amongst the books for any longer because I suddenly felt myself being pulled up by a bunch of kids, and Neiar too. It was such a show for everyone. And it cost our free time since Roger ordered us to spend the entire evening cleaning up and re-arranging the whole leisure room. Neiar and I didn't say a word to each other that night. Not that we often did in normal circumstances anyway.

Then I heard something about him having some fever that same night.

_Good for him._ I sure as hell had nothing to do with it.

It actually stayed in my mind for quite a while. Images of our earlier bickering flashed before me. Particularly the bit where I thought I heard him said 'stop'.

I thought I almost catch something there. A glint of emotion? A hint of feelings? A streak of _fear_, maybe?

Was it just an illusion?

That stupid little twit Neiar. With the eyes I hated so much. Even whenever he snapped back at me, he always did it coldly.

There was nothing about him that proved him human. He was nothing but a blank screen. And behind it all, there was nothing but lies. He acted all innocent, all clueless, wondering why the whole world hated him so, when all the while he enjoyed the attention and pity from his fake angst. And enjoyed playing me like a toy.

Getting off on it.

All his perfect flawless persona was nothing but lies. The perfect scam.

_Like Father Samuel._

I never forgot that day, no matter how hard I tried.

The day the painful truth sank in. The day I discovered what the whole Father Samuel thing meant.

Rumours had spread. Just like that. Quickly, relentlessly. I didn't understand it at first. But then I quickly learnt about the wrongness of the situation. The taboo. The _sin._

_Father Samuel was molesting under aged boys_. Including _me_.

But, they couldn't be right, could they? I wasn't raped. Or at least, I didn't feel like I was.

But the brutality was just about to began.

When I got down on my knees in front of the ceramic Mother Mary, wrapping my hands around the rosary Father Samuel gave me, praying hard, God didn't answer me through Father Samuel anymore.

He quit the missionary and left town. Just like that.

That autumn day, in the gloomy twilight, I caught a glimpse of him getting into a cab, and I was pretty sure he spotted me too.

I was about to run after him, but the look in his eyes through the car window said it all.

_That_ was God's answer.

_I don't give a shit about you._

Gone was the affection, the adoration, the pure and holy indulgence. There was just blue ice, filled with lies and deceit.

Ironically enough, the history you've always wished you'd forget lingers on.

But that wasn't the worst part.

History repeats itself.

Everything after that was a blur, and before I knew it I was at Wammy's House. With the one thing I needed the least.

Neiar's eyes were the leeway to the history I despised so.

Like then, it happened on an autumn day.

I probably should've known better. Those Mancurian yobs never would've taken it lying down.

But I was just minding my own business. I don't just pick fights for no reason.

It was probably not a good day to get the football going either. Unless if it was a way to keep warm.

Like I said, I should've known better.

I swear it couldn't have been more typical in a Northerner vs Southerner match.

A tackle that lead to a penalty. A true classic. Some idiot tried to pull some fancy Beckham move, and ended up tossing me over. I was close to scoring a concussion or a shoe stamp on my face.

"Penalty shoot!"

"That was not a foul!" the red-haired tosser came up to me, panting and brushing grass off his pants.

"Excuse me! You could've easily kicked my head in just now! You're lucky that only cost you a penalty!" he didn't scare me one bit.

"Aw, bollocks! What're you, going all Argentinean, are you!

"You're the one who doesn't know the difference! Doesn't anyone play proper football anymore these days?"

"Sod off you two, and get back to the game!" an older kid came up to support his mate, but I stayed unfazed.

"A foul is a penalty!"

"I said that was not a foul!"

A few more kids started to gather around us while we continued our bickering.

"'T was too! What's the matter, you're scared I'd score, aren't ya?"

"Shut up, Cockney slag!"

"What did you just call me?"

A snap turned to spit. One profanity turned to another. Push turned to shove. And a fight was inevitable.

That was, until one of the kids pulled out a Swiss knife and forced me to take a few steps back.

"Back off!"

"Put that thing away. What's the matter, not confident enough to fight yerself, are ya?"

He then started waving the knife around close to my face as a threat. I knew he was just bluffing because he didn't stand a chance. Stupid coward.

Reflexively, I shoved his hand away to the side and turned away. Although I was never one to take a challenge lying down, I knew I risked being seriously injured if I insist on taking on a Swiss knife.

And that was when I heard a scream.

Then I saw red.

The moron tore his own arm when I defended myself. The Swiss knife dropped to his feet.

The kids panicked. But that wasn't the focus of my attention, because soon enough I spotted Neiar not too far away from the crowd of panicked kids.

Our eyes met briefly.

He was there the whole time. He saw _everything_.

He was a witness. The only witness that could reveal that I didn't stab him. That it was simply an accident.

That is, _if_ he chose to speak up.

And again, _I should've known better._

I was about to run after him when the started running towards the house. The last glimpse I caught was of him turning around briefly, acting busy with whatever objects he had in his hands.

And the unmistakable look in his eyes said it all again, loud and clear.

_Neiar, you..._

He was enjoying every bit of this. He either didn't give a shit, or got off on watching me getting all the shit.

_That_ was the last straw.

He was _never_ going to get away with it.

_You just wait, Neiar._

So the next thing I knew I was interrogated like a crime suspect by Roger and the likes. And rumours spread around like mad.

_Mel the Menace. Mel carries Swiss knives around and slits anyone's throats whenever he felt like it. _

But I couldn't care less. Because not too long after that, I accidentally heard rumours about Neiar. Some random kid who happened to hung around with a couple of outcasts at the House apparently spent some time or knew about Neiar's past orphanage. And I caught up on some interesting stuff about Neiar in the past.

_Very_ interesting stuff.

I considered it entertainment, and I let it amuse me for a little while.

Needless to say, I could hardly wait to lay it out on the table.

Opportunity came knocking on my door just as I was about to lose my patience. That same week the history teacher decided to put us together in a group to work on a French Revolution paper.

It was something like 9.30-ish in the evening. There was no one left in the library except Neiar and I. It was common knowledge that since I spent so much time in the library and always the last one down, they'd trust me with locking up and stuff.

He was standing beside me browsing through a bookshelf with that intent look on his face. Intent on outsmarting me as usual?

It wasn't exactly planned. But I guess God or whatever force of karma had arranged it to happen that way. I knew I wouldn't just randomly spit it out and expected him to snap all at once.

So when I let him take the lead for a bit and got into some book selection, I didn't expect anything to happen one bit. I just sat there and took notes of what he already handed to me earlier. But there was this one book I disapproved of and put away before, but he kept shoving it to my face.

And _that_ annoyed me.

"Neiar, how many times do I have to bloody tell you that this is not what we're looking for! The Marie Antoinette affairs are completely irrelevant to this aspect of the French Revolution!" I complained while pushing the thick hard-cover copy of _Marie Antoinette: Biography of a Queen._

"But she was the one who pretty much drove the country bankrupt in the first place and lead the people to revolt against the monarchs...lest you forget."

He didn't even look at me.

"Yeah well, but this book is totally irrelevant, we're supposed to be focusing on the economical aspect!"

"It's there, Mel! Have you read the book?"

It felt so weird whenever he called my name. Or anyone's. Then again, he didn't do it very often.

"Have _you_ read the book, Neiar! It's pretty much a cheesy romance novel!"

"It has details of her expenses and so the royal family's finances!"

Yeah, of course I've read most of the book. And I could tell, from what I've read anyway, there wasn't so much economics in there.

"Well then since you love the book so much why don't y_ou_ go find it!"

"I've compiled the economical structure, remember? It's your turn to link the expenses by the monarch that lead to the Revolution."

"Oh yeah? And why is that? Because _you_ said so? Because you're so much better than everyone around that you can boss me around and do this report on _your_ terms only? What am I, your bitch! Get real!" I shifted a bit in irritation.

"Oh stop being such a yob!"

"And stop being such a stuck-up little twit!"

He was flicking through a book, trying to look all intelligent and superior. Or that was how it looked to me, anyway.

"Look, we are doing a report on the French Revolution, focusing on the economical aspect, alright!"

"Yes, but we are not doing a report on Marie Antoinette's sex life!"

"I should've known that's all there is in your head."

This little bastard...

"What's_ that_ supposed to mean?"

"If your mind wasn't so pre-occupied with all that vulgarity, you would've appreciated the book to be more relevant."

"Are you calling me a slag, Neiar?"

"I never said that."

_Ha, I should've known already what he saw me as._

"What's that got to do with anything!"

"I said I never said that! Look, what is your bloody problem with me! I never have anything against you, Mello."

_Oh, please..._

"Why, look at me, Mr.Self-Righteous. 'I don't know anything'. 'I'm innocent'. 'I'm perfect'. 'I'm so much better than everyone else'."

"Shut it."

Aha, see? It _was_ starting to get to him...

"You may fool everyone else with all your perfect, prestigious bollocks. But you don't fool me."

"I'm not listening to any of your irrelevant bollocks either, Mel."

I just couldn't help myself.

"You think I don't know, do you? My my, what a surprise, our perfect Neiar's dirty little secret."

"You're babbling nonsense."

"I know what you did, my little Neiar..."

"Wow, I'm _so_ interested," he said sarcastically.

"I heard some interesting story about how you were almost adopted before you came here..."

My hand subconsciously played with my rosary necklace. It was standing at the tip of my tongue and was just dying to be spat out.

"I'm not listening to you."

"Why hello, Mr.Jewellery Snatcher..."

And since that moment I never saw Neiar in quite the same way again.

With a force I never knew existed in him, he shoved me down on the table and wrapped his hands around my neck. His eyes were strange, empty and broken, but were still staring down at me with utter contempt.

_How interesting. _

"Ne...Neiar..." I reflexively gripped on his wrists to stop any further pressure.

"You don't know shit about me, Mello."

_Surprise, surprise..._

I remembered a smile was threatening to creep up my face.

"Well, lookey lookey, our perfect Neiar's finally lost it!"

_SLAP!_

"Don't fuck with me!"

_Like hell._

Alright, I'd say Neiar's slap could do with a bit more practice. Although it didn't hurt much, it did manage to force a drop of blood squeezing through around the corner of my mouth.

So you want to play that way? Well, fine with me...

With all my force I shifted my leg up and kicked him as hard as I could. It wasn't easy, but that would _have_ to do.

Neiar fell off the table in a heap, but the noises were mostly swallowed by the few books and papers scattered on the floor.

Wiping the blood off my lips, I turned towards him, still panting and holding his chest, looking at me in what looked like a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, Neiar."

_So try me...my dear Neiar..._

He didn't react much when I pushed him down on the floor and pinned his wrists above his head, though.

"Ahh!"

_Oh yes, Neiar, make some noise..._

He writhed and twisted, struggling to get me off him, but I was physically stronger than him...at least in this situation.

"Let go..._Mello_!"

_Keep struggling. And keep making noises._

Like I would.

And the look in his eyes didn't help him one bit. They were still empty, still hollow, still seeing through me...

_Look at me._

Like back then...

_I said, look at me!_

"Now you're gonna have to do better than that."

What I got was an unexpected spit.

"Fuck you, you little prick!"

SMACK!

His cheek turned a bright shade of pink, and I was deeply amused by the way it contrasted with his pale face.

"Ack!"

And then I saw blood. Not much, but enough.

I think the moment he realised there was blood it calmed him down a little. But still I didn't miss the unmistakable painful wince that tainted his eyes briskly.

I could feel something boiling inside of me.

Neiar's face was only a few inches away under mine.

The library was so quiet all I could hear was our panting breaths. But somehow his breaths sounded louder in my head.

It was so tempting.

Oh yes, Neiar...

I'd say that I was possessed by someone else when my face moved closer to his and landed my tongue along the side of his mouth, licking the salty metallic liquid.

But then I'd be lying. Because it was me who was relentlessly pounding in my head, literally _itching_ to do it.

"Mel, what the fuck...!"

Neiar struggled some more. But then he stopped.

_Aw, why did he stop?_

Then I felt him tensed beneath me. If only I knew what he was thinking. If only I could see the look on his face while doing this at the same time.

_Do you see me now, Neiar? Or even better, do you feel me now?_

I lifted my head up and to my dismay, I found his eyes tightly shut.

Those eyes always refused to see me...

_Not just his eyes..._

Like Father Samuel when he left...

_Go away!_

The room was rather cold. I knew the heater was turned off ages ago. But I wasn't cold. I was strangely...warm. And splattered by intriguing feelings I wasn't sure what.

He finally opened his eyes again, and looked at me with uncertainty. And it made me want to make fun of him even more.

"You taste so sweet, my dear Neiar..."

I realised I wanted him. All of him. I wanted to make him feel something. Something he will remember for the rest of his supposedly perfect little life.

All the curiosity...all the questions...I realised they would potentially end tonight.

But when I snapped out of it, it wasn't me who closed the distance between us. It wasn't my hands that pulled my face down and let nature took its course.

It was Neiar.

It was Neiar's mouth against mine. It was Neiar's tongue running up my mouth and searched around, as if intending to clean our bloods off.

I'd expected his mouth to be cold and his lips to be paper-dry, but there was a reason why thermometers stuck in one's oral cavity is a good representation of one's body temperature.

Neiar may be cold and lifeless on the outside. But he was boiling inside. And that stunned me a bit. It felt so..._intimate._

Then I realised that the closest to intimacy that I've ever felt before was that time with Father Samuel.

And it was...rather enjoyable. I can't believe that I was feeling this way towards Neiar...of all people.

"Why Neiar, never thought you had it in you..." I whispered against his ear.

When I was with Father Samuel, I remembered thinking what would it be like to be on the adult's shoes, to be the one exploring and savouring intimacy with the other.

But I wasn't with Father Samuel now. I was with Neiar. There was something oddly fascinating about his figure. He was thin, almost to the point of bony. I probably wasn't much different, but it was definitely an experience feeling how skinny someone could be. When I pressed down against his thighs and he drew in a short breath, I knew I wanted to touch him some more. His skin was awfully dry, papery but smooth. There was something excruciatingly fragile about him, yet his stubbornness and arrogance formed a protective shell around it, pushing away anything that came too close.

Was I close enough now?

_Neiar..._

The whole realisation only made me itch to prod him more. I didn't think much when I let my tongue trailed down his ears, which gradually turned into further teasing, leaving wet streaks around the area. I wanted to shove my tongue inside his earhole...tease him until it ticked him.

Why was I doing this to Neiar?

"Ahh!"

But the moment I heard his gasping breath, I stopped asking questions.

All I knew was it was bringing me so much pleasure I couldn't stop. So I wasn't paying much attention to my loosening grip around his wrists.

Suddenly I felt a tug on my hair and Neiar's cold hands cupped around my face, drawing it closer to his.

Neiar kissed me.

Not feathery light like a friendly kiss.

Not affectionate and maternal like Father Samuel's kiss.

But a hot, wet and fervent kiss.

He was _molesting_ my mouth. And his tongue...

_My God, Neiar..._

Letting him take control was not in my agenda, though.

ZRASH!

Before I could think, he toppled over and now he was on top. The sounds of rattling papers added to the sudden drift.

"Uhh..."

This was strange. But exciting. Because every single of Neiar's breaths in my face spoke a thousand paradoxes. He was cold, yet hot. He was emotionless yet he wanted to do these things to me. There was probably a great war breaking out inside of him.

And I felt myself reacting. Latent and gentle at first, but gradually growing more and more noticeable.

I looked up at him on top of me. His eyes peering down at me were hollow as ever, but this time fully curious, wondering, questioning, trying to figure me out. He continued to stare down at me for a while.

_That's it, look at me..._

With your eyes. With your soul. With all of you.

Memories of Father Samuel came creeping back. Because when he used to watch me, I could identify the curiosity as part of it the way I was seeing it in Neiar now. Only back then there was much more awe, much more...adoration.

_Do you like what you see now, Neiar?_

If he could just be closer.

_Closer._

Hearing that in my head, I wondered if I'd said it out loud, because the next thing I knew my hands were wrapped around the back of his head and pushed him down to my waiting mouth.

I could do better than _that._

_Feel me now, Neiar. _

When I shoved my tongue down his throat and drew out his taste, he was playing along. As if just letting himself taken over by me.

Heh.

I pulled back for a little bit.

"You dirty little slag."

He responded with another kiss. This time though, it wasn't just my mouth he was after. My body just involuntarily arched up towards him as Neiar's mouth trailed down my chin, leaving streaks of moisture down lower, towards my neck.

He was feverishly hot, strangely so, because this was something I never thought he was capable of feeling.

"Aahhh..."

As his head went lower, his hands stayed up, fumbling around the base of my face, his fingers tracing my skin...

Without thinking twice, I sucked on his fingers and quickly drew them in my mouth, and I felt him tensed against my chest for a second. Neiar's fingers were exactly how I expected them to be, thin and bony, slender and long, hard and strong...

...while his head continued to work its way down.

Like a little kid who just discovered a new toy, his touches were curious yet intense. Slowly exploring while holding me, his hot breaths dragging against my skin...

_Neiar, you..._

And it made me even hotter.

_I wanted to do more...with him._

He was tugging on my shirt, pulling the collar down to its limit, still kissing away, when the crinkling sounds of my rosary necklace broke the monotonous breathing sounds.

Then I felt him stop.

"What's the matter big boy, can't handle your own little demons?" As if taunted, Neiar reached for my shirt and yanked it off.

_What the hell took you so long?_

Unbuttoning his white shirt, exposing his bony and pale figure just as I expected, I spotted a bit of goosebumps forming around his arms. It was kind of cold, and we both almost forgot about it. Neiar pressed closer against me, and I liked the feeling.

My hands automatically roamed around his back, running down his spinal cord. He was so thin it was as if I was touching the actual notochord itself, wrapped in paper-thin skin. He twisted slightly and purred against my chest.

_What now, Neiar? _

Once he froze, I suddenly felt that cold stare again...from a distance far away.

Eyes that were always looking at me, but never see me.

Not now.

Was Neiar going to leave it at that?

Like possessed animal, I caved in and gave it to him all at once. I did everything he did to me, only harder, longer and somewhat faster.

Will it make you hear me if I touch you like this?

Will it make you see me if I kiss you like this?

Will it make you feel me if I suck you like this?

"Ohh..."

Apparently so.

_Do you want me now, Neiar? _

As if that wasn't enough, I shifted my head down his chest, and within seconds found the spot I was looking for.

I didn't even need to think about it. It was like a pre-disposition. An instinct. Like an infant always looking for its mother's breast for feeding and security.

But this had nothing to do with nurture. I just wanted to see what it would do to him if I sucked on his nipple. I felt him tense, then a little gasp escaped his mouth.

_Neiar..._

And the result was clear. Once he discovered this thing called lust, there was no turning back.

This time, his touches were not curious and exploring blindly anymore. He knew exactly what he was looking for. I could feel the difference in the way he treated my body.

Like back then...

Father Samuel knew exactly what he was after, and found places in my body that he knew would feel good...and comfortable.

The only difference was, if Father Samuel was careful not to hurt or awaken something in me that I wouldn't have known how to control as a little kid, Neiar was doing exactly the opposite. This wasn't about comfort. This was raw, hormonal desire. An instinctual drive like any 15-year old's.

I knew he wanted to make me feel the way _I_ made him feel.

And he was doing well indeed.

But let's see who will burst their bubble first.

Neiar's breathing was getting heavier and heavier now.

Oh...wait. What was he doing?

I felt my head being pushed down, away from his chest...lower and lower still...towards the unmistakable bulge beneath his white pants.

He was more than aroused.

I could feel him growing powerless against me, so I took the opportunity to roll him over and climb on top of him.

So here was Neiar...losing all control under me, panting and gasping and holding on to me. He was so hard I could feel it dragging along the inside of my thighs.

_Well, well, who's the little slag now?_

Then I realised that I was just as hard...when and how it started was way beyond my concern. Right now all I had in my head was the relentless drive to...to...what?

This overwhelming desire for Neiar...what was it? It wasn't just as a simple as wanting to take over him...I wanted him wanting me, begging and crying for me to do things to him.

I realised I wanted to break him.

I gave him one last crushing kiss before running my mouth lower, licking, sucking, nibbling, leaving trails of saliva down to his belly button, and I smiled secretly as I felt him writhing beneath me.

His hands wasn't staying still either. I almost shivered involuntarily when they ran down my spine.

"Mel..."

Heh.

_I'll make sure you call out my name some more..._

It was like the most natural thing ever. I knew just what to do, instinctively.

Without looking down, I fumbled around his pants and reached for the zipper. And as soon as I pulled it down completely, his mouth caught mine again.

Neiar was feverishly hot...so deliciously so. I couldn't get enough.

I had to have him.

Gone were the days where I saw him as just a pair of eyes. Or a dead heap on the floor fiddling around with jigsaw puzzles. I knew there was more of him. And _I_ had control of it.

So when I tugged his pants down and gripped his aching erection, the sudden gasp of breath Neiar made shot straight between my legs. I wanted more. I lowered my head and gave a soft bite around his belly button area. He seemed to enjoy it. Then I got up again, and enjoyed the pleasurable view beneath me.

Neiar with a pink streak across his usually pale face, his lips swollen and wet, blowing out short rags of hot breaths, his chest moving up and down, beads of sweat started forming around his forehead. Like a little boy possessed, he held on to me, as if gesturing me to get on with it.

I gave him one last stare...

"Well, look at you, Neiar,"

Before finally taking his hot throbbing flesh in my mouth.

"Unghhh..."

He tasted weird...organic and slightly salty. But I knew it was so hot it was threatening to burst anytime. I didn't know where I've found the skills. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

_Would it have been nice if Father Samuel did this to me back then? _

I sucked harder and tightened my grip even more.

_Would I like it?_

I realised how irrelevant my current thoughts were. Since when did it wander around that far?

This was the reality. Here and now. I was sucking Neiar...and there were other things that should've tickled my fancy.

I _so_ wanted him to make more noises.

I pulled out slightly, and swirled my tongue around the base of his tip. And I felt him thrashing around some more.

Thought so. He _was_ sensitive there. But I only made that observation based on my own personal experience. I knew _I_ was rather sensitive there too.

Picking up the pace, I engulfed him fully again and held tighter around the base.

Neiar was thrusting along too, harder with each stroke.

But was he looking at me with the same pair of eyes like always? Would he have looked at me differently then?

_No.I don't want to know._

"Aaahhh..." he gave out another involuntary gasp, burying his hands in my hair...as I tasted something pungently salty and raw flowing into my mouth in tiny drops. He was close.

This was...unreal...sinful...but so oddly...good. So good that I think I accidentally drab a teeth.

"Fuck! Mel!"

_Keep screaming my name, Neiar._

I felt him wrapping his slender and bony legs around me, and urging me to do him faster. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction now. Instead, I reached underneath and teased his balls.

And within seconds, he exploded in two shots.

"Mmmhhh...aahhhh!"

I spat out his warm juices out of my mouth at once, and drab some paper over the mess. There was a sudden strong smell of protein in the air.

I looked back down, and to my dismay saw that_ look_ again. He was still panting and reflexively had his hands covering his crotch.

Was that just an illusion?

Did that do _nothing_ to him except for that few seconds?

Suddenly I felt angry. So angry I felt clouds forming in my head.

"Now it's your turn to serve me, you little slag," I think I was saying something like that when I grabbed hold of Neiar's legs and shoved his pants all the way off before pulling my own down just enough to set my erection free.

Those eyes. Those eyes I _hate_ so much.

"Mel..."

Shut up! Let me fuck you first.

I had my aching cock in my hand, and its tip positioned just over Neiar's hole. The mix of clear lubricant and pre-cum would have to do.

Like I care.

"Aaahhhh...Mel, no!" Neiar screamed when I pushed into him. He was impossibly tight...to the point where I almost thought it wouldn't fit. But then it gave a leeway, a nanometre at a time.

Not so cool now, are you?

So I kept going.

When I was finally buried in him completely, I settled down for a bit and let myself get used to the sensation. I grabbed on to his hip and leg tightly, holding him still, while he shifted uncomfortably. I could've easily torn him apart in the process, but that time I really couldn't care less.

Then he was suddenly still. Everything was quiet for a second. All I could hear was Neiar's gradually steadying breath. When I looked down...it suddenly hit me again.

Neiar zoned out. His eyes were empty as ever.

_Seeing through me as ever._

You little...

So I pulled out of him slightly, and pushed back in. A wince of pain formed across his face, before he started tossing his head from side to side. I could tell he was aroused amongst all that discomfort...

And his eyes...

I thrust into him some more.

_One._

The first eyes I saw every single day, many many years ago...empty as ever. Even the Mother Mary icons I found at the chapel had more warmth. Emotionless, uncaring eyes...the reason why I always turned to Father Samuel.

Her eyes...they looked at me but never saw me. No matter how many times I called out to her.

_Mother._

So I had called her out.

The answer was always the same. Although it was never said out loud.

_I don't give a shit about you._

I pounded harder into Neiar.

"Ah!"

_Two._

Father Samuel. Once I was his pride and joy, his precious treasure. His object of affection and adoration.

The next moment I was nothing but a used toy.

Once he was in trouble, I meant nothing to him.

_I don't give a shit about you._

_Three._

Neiar.

Once his eyes were there, nothing else mattered. No other eyes intrigued me the way he did to me.

Neiar...you...

"Uuugnhhh...aahh..."

With one final hard thrust, I shot my load into him. With a held back moan, with closed eyes, with gritted teeth, and a few pumps. Drops of my hot essence trickled down the inside of his thighs.

_The little bitch deserved it._

I panted violently in the orgasmic afterglow, leaning against my elbows lying on either side of Neiar. He was breathing just as heavy, his hands covering his forehead.

Yeah, that's it. _Feel_ me.

_I want you to remember me for the rest of your life._

And I _loved_ the feeling. It was even better than chocolate.

_Mel..._

_You're so beautiful, Mel._

That was all that was left.

Next thing I knew I passed out beside Neiar.

The rest I can't remember.

_LOS ANGELES, USA, 2009._

"Mello."

"What is it, Rod?" I shifted my leg up as I unwrapped the next bar of chocolate.

"About the individual of interest..."

The heavy gangster handed me a piece of paper.

"I see."

I opened the folds of paper as I took my first bite of the dark chocolate.

SPK, Washington D.C, huh?

_Interesting._

I kind of knew it already.

"Rod."

"Yeah?"

"This is just between us until further notice."

"Understood."

"Okay, you can go now."

END OF PART 2


	3. Interlude

_WARNINGS: Rated NC-17/R-18 (whatever it is depending on your country of origin), yaoi (boy x boy sex), OC, random OOC-ness, made-up past memoirs, some coarse language, some violence, graphic & explicit under-aged sexual content. References to Catholicism & sacrilege. _

**ORAL FIXATION.**

_Winchester, UK, 2005._

_MELLO:_

_One. _

In the name of the Father.

"Aahhh...ahhh..."

_Two._

In the name of the Son.

"Ahh...Neiar..."

_Three._

In the name of the Holy Spirit.

"Mel...! Aahhh..."

_Forgive me, God, for I have sinned._

I didn't want to think about that now. Memories of Father Samuel was well buried behind me. All that was left was the random images attached to the rosary dangling around my neck.

_Christ, I never thought how committing a sin could feel this good._

There was this small room in Wammy's House that was very rarely used. Most of the kids called it the White Room, because everything was white, from the floors to the curtains to the window sills. Rumours said that it was once used as an isolation room for anyone who was being disobedient. But I guessed in this day and age no one resorted to such old-fashioned measures anymore. It was more like an emergency store room, but even so, there wasn't much stored. All there was was a chair, a small table, some sheets and curtains dangling at random. But one of my personal favourite was the antique white shelf at the corner of the room. It wasn't very tall, but in it were a few books from God-forsaken time periods and a silver-plated candle stand. On top of it was a large crucifix, complete with a crucified Jesus Christ and a ceramic Mother Mary icon right beside it, slightly shorter than the cross. And to top it off, there was a rather large self-portrait painting of L hanging on the wall, framed in fancy golden carvings. He was looking straight at the viewer, in a white shirt, contrasting with his wild jet black hair.

I remembered Neiar once calling it some secret Shrine to L. I wouldn't say he was 100 wrong.

But considering the situation now, we could both call it the Shrine of Sin.

"Oohhh...Mel..."

When did this become a routine?

When did this become almost like...an _addiction_?

That night at the library, that I thought was a one-time mistake, never left either of us. Apparently.

I remembered feeling very sick the morning after, and so did Neiar. He skipped school and stayed in bed with a high fever being the excuse.

He had it easy.

I locked myself up in the bathroom for what must've felt like hours, bending over the toilet bowl, ready to hack my guts out but nothing came out. Then I remembered feeling light-headed and fainted for about half an hour.

But now...

"Mel!"

He called out my name in between gasping and panting as he came hard and messy against my stomach. I continued thrusting into him a few more times, before finally reached my own climax and sprayed hot juices inside Neiar.

_Oh...Gods..._

I collapsed on top of him, all sweaty, sticky and feverish hot. His ragged breaths scorched against my hair, before he finally turned around and laid his head sideways.

I looked up, and saw L staring back at me. Every time I saw that painting, I couldn't stop wondering why it was put in this room instead of the study or somewhere else.

"Mel..." Neiar's monotonous voice broke my train of thought.

"What?"

"I think we should stop doing this."

_NEIAR:_

I felt him tensed for a second, then got up and spat out, "Speak for yourself, hypocrite."

He got up and cleaned his stomach off my cum, before quickly wrapping his naked pale body randomly with the black shirt. The contrast was so...

_When did he become so...desirable?_

I saw him, and apart from this fascination I got everytime I tweaked with him, he'd send shots of electricity down my spine as soon as he reacted.

Also, he never _just_ reacted. He always reacted dramatically. Making sure that I noticed.

All because of _me_. And it was _all just for me_.

My Mel.

Like dark and dirty sin, like the Devil seducing its victims ruthlessly, he always caught me off guard at the most inconvenient times possible.

I couldn't get enough of him. But still, things didn't change one bit. We were still rivals. I was still entertained by the fact that I could always outdo him in everything. That I snatched away all the attention, compliments and praises and didn't leave one bit of a limelight for him. He still annoyed the hell out of me frequently. And he still hated my guts.

Hated me so much that he wanted to fuck me over and over.

I wasn't any different either.

Maybe that was what made the sex so incredible.

Like the other day.

"Howcome you were always the one who got first access to the latest development in the Kira case!" he snapped at me. After making sure that everyone else in the House was well asleep, of course.

_And I was somehow horney as hell._

"Well, if you were a bit more observant, you'd notice that it was loaded to the Classified Folder after hours."

"Liar. It didn't load until _after_ you used the computer."

"It's called 'password', Mel."

"So what the fuck is it!"

"Same as always! Like how you opened up any fucking file in that folder!"

He shoved me aside and took over the keyboard.

"Hey, I was using that!"

"Oh, fuck you. Sod off."

So I pushed him over and he fell on the floor.

"No."

I swear my hand had a mind of its own. It dragged Mel up and chucked him against the table.

"Fuck _you_."

Without further notice, I yanked his pants down and pushed him to the edge of the table, so I was bending over him.

"Neiar, stop!"

I had my hands fumbling with the zipper of my pants, before finally setting my nagging erection free.

"Make me, Mel. _Make me_."

As he struggled and started yelling out profanities, my other hand reached up and covered his mouth. The next thing he tried was biting my hand, which was quite predictable, so I quickly grabbed a pen and set it across his mouth. After biting on it reflexively, he spewed it out angrily, but as soon as I entered him, he didn't say a word.

"Neiar..."

_I'd do just about anything to hear him call out my name like that._

But most of our coupling took place at the White Room. The least likely place for anyone to find out. We'd done it on the floor, covered with a few sheets, on the table, on the chair, against the wall...everywhere. And it would mostly take place after midnight, where everyone was far in their own dreamland. Or in the wee hours of the morning. Just before the sun comes up.

And the man I was supposed to be a successor for stared right back at me in the face.

It was, after all, quite an impressive self-portrait. I've always wondered who painted it.

Sometimes, though, it was an amusing challenge. I'd stare right back at him while fucking Mel, counting the time I could last, every single second.

_Look at me, L. Look how much better I am compared to Mel and everyone else. _

And shameless to say, I got the most amazing orgasms. But more importantly, the most obscene sounds out of Mel.

Whenever Mel fucked me though, I preferred simply keeping my eyes shut.

_MELLO:_

I still hated him. Even until now.

I hated the fact that he hardly said anything. I hated how he constantly twirled his fingers around his silver hair. I hated how he was always so arrogant, ignorant, and oblivious to everything around him. And most of all, I hated how I couldn't get enough of fucking him.

Neiar was brilliant with his hands. Sometimes his mouth too. Whenever we did it in the White Room, I couldn't care less about the hard cold surface of the floor against my skin. All that mattered was his arms wrapped around me. And we always came hard and messy, sometimes noisy...never without fail.

We realised we hated each other so much and so used to it that we needed it.

We needed this hate.

This contempt...this sin. The one thing that felt liberating as ever. Probably the only way we needed each other by some twist of fate.

Once I was so angry, so angry I didn't know why. As soon as darkness fell, we were in the dark room. And I had Neiar impaled on me as I sat down on the chair. I bit down on his nipples as I pounded into him again and again. I fucked him so hard he had tears streaming down his face.

But he didn't say a thing.

Muffling his screams by biting on his sleeves, he only turned me on even more. As expected, I came twice within minutes.

_Fuck, Neiar..._

He was always the reason why I felt anything worth feeling. The fact that he wanted me as much as I wanted him probably didn't help much.

Sometimes he even let me tie him up. With a piece of rope, ribbon, the sheet, his shirt, whatever I could find. And the view couldn't get any better than that. When he was lying there, naked and perfect, panting and wanting, his pale face tainted by hot pink flushes, the view sent jolts straight down between my legs.

"Mel...stop..."

So he had breathed the words. And it only made me hot even more, particularly down between my legs.

_I want you, Neiar..._

His empty uncaring eyes hid a thousand carnal desire. It was sinful. It was taboo. It was degrading. It was discreet. Only I cracked the codes.

"No..."

But I knew he was dying for me to touch him.

When did this become my need? When did this become _our_ needs?

I'd have sex with Neiar just as much as he'd have sex with me.

_It was almost like back then. _

Only _better_.

Partly because of one thing...probably.

He was _loving_ it. On the outside he may be this perfect genius with praises and compliments up his arse but I was the only one who knew he liked taking other things up his arse. I was the only one who could see him beyond that.

What I felt with Father Samuel back then felt nothing compared to now. Although this was nowhere near as affectionate.

"Aawhh!"

Neiar's helpless moans zoned me back in.

He just exploded in my hands again.

_NEIAR:_

I knew he hated me so much he couldn't get enough of me. Or couldn't get enough of fucking me.

And I couldn't get enough of making him tick.

Once Roger had asked me, "Neiar, I couldn't help but wonder what is it that you either did or say that always seem to set Mello off?"

_It's been a while now since the answer to that question mattered at all to me._

"I don't know, Roger." And I wasn't lying.

"He seems to be always angry with you. Always."

Not always. _Oh, if Roger only knew._

We hated each other so much that we loved each other to the point of destruction.

Could I have reminded him of something the way he reminded me of Mellina from time to time? Sometimes I couldn't help but wonder. But I do remember though, that ever since that incident at the football field he seemed to hate me more. And that was when we haven't even begun doing those things that are forbidden...

He was pissed off at me because I didn't speak up for him. He thought I saw everything, and I swear I didn't. But he wouldn't mention it to me because if there was one thing called an ego bigger than anything, then that would be Mel. Maybe I was wrong. But I really was so caught up in what I was doing at the time that I didn't see the whole thing. The next thing I saw was chaos as one of the kids was holding his bleeding hand. And Mel took all the blame.

I never said anything.

Neither did he.

I'd be lying if I said it was completely unintentional.

Or to find out how he would react.

And that question continued to linger on in my mind. Had I seen the whole thing, would I have spoken up for him?

Or would I have been way too fascinated with the fact that I could tick him off once again? _Big_ time?

Either way, Mel never did mention it. He probably did in _other_ ways, though...

"You like that, you little slag!" he whispered sharply as he slapped my cheek promptly. I could only wince and waited for the burning sensation on my face to subside.

The White Room was quiet, as always. And L's eyes were still looking at me from the top. Mel had my wrists tied up around the leg of the bookshelf with a leather belt. It wasn't long after the incident at the library. And as usual, his murderous eyes were glaring daggers at me, but aside from that, was burning with hunger for something else.

_Since when did I start to enjoy having him looking at me like that?_

It must've been one of those sick masochistic outbursts. But right now I couldn't care less, because Mel was ripping my clothes open and bit on my neck with his lips. I was already hard for quite a while. Then he went lower...

I've always noticed Mel's oral fixation with chocolates. How he always seemed to devour it with such lustful appetite. How he always seem to have such a blissful expression on his face when he's licking, biting and munching on the sweet treat. And let's just say that his mouth wasn't just good with chocolates.

But to me, it felt like I was more than chocolate to him.

When he touched me, when he devoured me, he savoured every moment, tasted every flavour and drained me to the very core. Needles to say he was really good at it.

"Uuhhh...Mel..."

I wanted to...fuck, wrapped my legs around his neck and shoved myself deeper into his mouth, forcing him to take more of me. But he wasn't planning on losing control. No matter how many times he'd done this to me, it always felt like the first time. Every orgasm I had was always mind-blowing, and sometimes I'd come more than once. Maybe it was simply the teenage hormones talking.

But hormones or not, Mel was there, always there...watching me, enjoying me, finishing me off, pouring all his emotions to me like boiling blood.

And I kept wondering how much more I could push him. Although I often wondered how much longer I could play this game. But it was so much fun...and addictive, I couldn't stop.

How far would he go to deny how much I was affecting him? How much have I gotten into him anyway?

The curiosity was always there. Just like the desire I had for him alone.

"Aa...ahh!"

The familiar smell of raw protein filled up the White Room once again.

Tugging on the belt tying up my wrists, he climbed up and looked down on me...his rosary dangling around his neck...it's hard and cold crucifix pendant brushing against my chest and a bit of my nipple...

_I'll make you remember me for the rest of your life..._

God, if you really exist then say something. I wonder if it really _was_ a sin...

Because nothing dramatic has happened ever since that night. I wasn't thrown to the burning flames of hell or struck by lightning or anything.

And it was becoming a routine. An undying _need_...

_MELLO:_

Maybe it was true what they said. That there was a really thin line between love and hate.

I think I've hated Neiar to the point where I couldn't hate him anymore. To the point where there was nothing left to do or say except _this_. And this thing between us was more than anything that could be explained with mere words.

He had me, alright. My mind, my soul, my heart, and now even my body. I couldn't get enough of him. Breaking him over and over never seemed to be enough.

Neiar was always there. Either sitting down on the floor playing with his jigsaw puzzles, squatting on the chair fiddling with the computer, leaning on a bookshelf flicking through thick textbooks, or simply twirling his finger around his hair...wherever he was. Just watching him like that got me hot.

I remembered one afternoon. The whole day beforehand I was so irritated by yet another one of Ms.Cassera's comments about me not focusing enough like Neiar did.

And what I overheard later made it worse.

But for once, that wasn't the only cause. I was just walking down the hallway, when I heard some girls gossiping near the leisure room.

"Oh my God, is that true?"

"Yes, Neiar, of all people!"

"That _weirdo_?"

"Can't help it, the boy's a genius though."

"I mean, isn't it kind of obvious though? Linda was always the first one to urge him to go play outside, you know."

"...Or sometimes, try to chat him up."

"But anyways, what did you see, anyway?"

"Well, I was just walking past the leisure room, and I saw Neiar doing this paper-folding stuff..."

"You mean origami, like the Japanese art?"

"Yeah, sumthin' like that. So anyway, Linda tried to get him outside again, and they were talking for a while..."

"Let me guess, he gave her a paper crane."

"Something like that, yeah."

"Oh, so what? You expect us all to go, 'awww, what a darling'?"

"Yeah, but this is Neiar we're talking about. He doesn't _do_ nice things to girls."

"Either way, Linda's after him."

Then it all dissolved into giggles.

_Girls!_

Pathetic. They're nothing but trouble. Only to grow up to become another Ms.Cassera. But it wasn't just them that kind of bothered me. I have noticed how Linda's always been the one most friendly to Neiar. You know, inviting him to go play outside and all.

Feh.

Neiar this, Neiar that.

It was always about _him._

Like a robot automatically programmed to do things, I rushed into the White Room, undeniably expecting him to be there.

_Why was I feeling like shit?_

I opened the door in a hurry. And the view I got straight away was pretty much how I wanted it to be.

_Jealous? Please!_

It was the period of transition between day to night. The whole room was as white as usual. The dim glow of the last sunrays of the day added a dramatic touch to the room. There was something unreal about the whole presence.

_Why was it always about him?_

Neiar was just sitting there, his legs folded beneath him, his right hand playing with his hair. His eyes empty as ever.

_Why can't he stop getting into me?_

L's portrait was hanging straight above him, as if creating a guarding presence behind him, protecting his frail and pale figure. His skin was as pale as his white outfit, and it was like he was part of the White Room itself, his white appearance camouflaged by the walls around him.

_I couldn't quite explain what it was that drew me to him so badly... _

_NEIAR:_

There was a period where I didn't notice anyone other than Mello.

I could even hardly remember any of the other kids at the House.

I did remember Linda, though. But I guess she only stood out because of her superior artistic talents. She's probably drawn sketches of every single person at the House, including me and Mel. And probably because she was the one who urged me to play outside the most, which I normally replied with "I'm fine, Linda."

So when I sometimes talked to her briefly and didn't see images of Mellina haunting me, I thought it was just alright.

While the truth was all I had in my head was Mello.

I had planned to wait for him again in the White Room as usual, later today. The anticipation was killing me, I couldn't wait until dark.

"Neiar..."

I turned around and there she was, holding her A3-sized sketchbook.

"Don't you want to play outside? The weather is nice, you know."

"I'm fine, Linda," I said as I went back to my 16th paper crane.

"What's all this?" She moved closer and squatted beside me.

"This is called 'origami'. Japanese traditional art of paper-folding."

She looked impressed. "Trying something new, are you?"

"Uh-huh."

When I started stacking them up into pyramids, she was beside me, watching intently.

I didn't expect to go far with arranging these paper cranes into pyramids, as they were in the brink of collapsing just as I reached halfway of the third line. But I wasn't planning on stopping, at least not with a simple 5x4x3x2x1 pyramid. I was one paper crane over, though.

So without thinking twice, I gave it to Linda.

And she accepted it without thinking twice either.

So that was it. I didn't realise that the whole thing had become news of the week among the girls until a few hours later.

That kind of annoyed me. Not to mention that I've had an unexplained headache that's been bugging me since earlier in the morning. Or maybe because I haven't seen Mel for quite a big chunk of the day. Either way, I was kind of more irritable than usual.

Suddenly the day became so long and it seemed like the sun was never going to set.

When it finally did, I walked over to the White Room, undeniably expecting him to be there. But when he wasn't I just sat there, leaning against the wall.

I glanced around the room, thinking about the things I'd done right here, in this very room...with my ultimate sin that was Mello.

_If these walls could talk..._

The door opened with a bang, and there stood a very irritated-looking Mel.

The look of someone who hasn't got some for quite a while...

_Come over here..._

Without saying anything, he walked over and sat right in front of me, as if anticipating some kind of reaction.

_Reminds me of that night..._

SLAP!

I didn't flinch, even after the burning pain subsided.

Doing something just because he felt like it was so like Mel.

"You just had to show off and get all the girls, don't you?" This time he grabbed me by the collar and for the millionth time I let him.

_Bring it on, Mel._

"Attention whore."

_How far would you go?_

"Say something you fucking slag!"

What would I say? That you're _jealous_?

All I did after that was pushed him over until he was lying under me, and I looked into his wild predatory eyes, looking back at me as if wanting to burn me over.

"Do you want me that much?"

He spat at me. No surprises there either.

"Fuck you."

I held him down with all my strength although his overwhelming force was threatening to overtake me.

Maybe he really _was_ jealous.

How _interesting._

I silenced him with a deep, hungry kiss. Damn, he was like a drug. And he wouldn't back off either. Every time he kissed me back it was like some sort of aspirin easing my blood flow in every single vessel. I felt hot and feverish all over, my headache long forgotten, all I had in my head was him. I only stopped briefly to get some air, and then noticed something. There was _music_ playing in the background...very softly, and I could make out it was in some language other than English. Maybe Roger was playing his old LP in the office like he sometimes did.

And it only reminded me of one thing.

Original sin.

_MELLO:_

Why I was so annoyed at him back then, I couldn't quite remember. All I could think of was how I wanted to have my way with him over and over.

There was music playing from Roger's office.

Like the devil, he was alluring, tempting...insatiable. And was lusting after me, the same way I was over him. Like sin, he was wrong and taboo, but isn't the greatest atrocity also the greatest pleasure ever? To hell with them.

Neiar was kissing me like never before, holding on to me beneath him like he'd never let me go, breathing hard in my mouth.

Then I realised it was the same piece of music that Father Samuel had played many years ago during our little tryst.

_/Amplius lava me ab iniquitate mea.../_

This sinful treat was like no other. As I tried to shake off images of Father Samuel, I grabbed on to Neiar's head, trying to hold on to something real...

_/Et a peccato meo munda me.../_

Neiar, I...

He continued kissing me, down lower to my neck, my collarbone, pulling my shirt down...

I _hate_ you...

I let him pull my shirt off, as he kept leaving trails of his warm saliva down parallel to my sternum, then my stomach...

_...for making me feel this way._

Neiar stopped for a second to catch his breath, then found my rosary necklace. To my surprise, he then took it into his mouth and let the crucifix pendant sat between his teeth. Then he looked down on me, with that usual pink flush staining his cheeks.

I've never seen a sight quite so sinful and..._fascinating._

And fuck, that _look_ on his face...

He let go of his bite and let the pendant fall back on my chest, making a faint 'clunk' sound. The once cold pendant was now warm from his mouth. Neiar was aroused beyond words, as I felt his hardness brushing against my leg. And I wasn't any better myself.

"Aa...ah..."

Before I knew it, his tongue was on my bellybutton, and his hands were fiddling with the zipper of my pants.

Don't stop.

_/Do you know...you're beautiful.../ _

Just _don't._

It was like he knew exactly what I was thinking and what I wanted him to do.

If Neiar didn't have any sort of oral fixation with anything, then I had no idea how the hell he learnt to do fellatio so well. He didn't just suckle and lick, he savoured every inch, every texture and every taste. I was just lying there beneath him, writhing and moaning helplessly as he pleased me like no other. It was so deliciously degrading for him, and that made me enjoy it even more.

_That's it, suck me, you little slag._

When he grabbed on to the sacs beneath as he gave me one last pump deep to the base, I lost it completely.

Suddenly everything else was forgotten, and like a drug addict just completing his fix, I laid there panting in the afterglow with Neiar still between my legs. He looked up at me with his usual expressionless face, wiping down drops of my protein from the corner of his mouth.

Alright, I admit it. Maybe I needed him more than just anything.

The next day, I woke up with the usual satisfaction. But then I didn't see Neiar the whole day. The usual figure I would usually find heaped on the carpet playing with his jigsaw puzzles was nowhere to be seen. When darkness fell and he wasn't in the White Room I couldn't help asking Roger about it.

All I got was two short sentences.

"Neiar's sick. He's been in bed all day."

_NEIAR:_

The headache that was bugging me the other day turned out to be a prelude to something else. That particular morning I woke up feeling like the weight of a planet had been set on me. Every single joint I had in my body hurt whenever I moved. It was so uncomfortable.

Moving off the bed was a struggle, let alone leaving the room. Roger had suggested that I took a rest and gave me some paracetamol. I felt slightly better for a while, but as darkness fell the fever and sores went back again, maybe even worse. In the end, he sent someone from the House to call a doctor and when he got here, my body temperature must've reached at least 39 degrees. I kind of predicted his verdict as well. Acute bacterial infection. Must've wounded myself somewhere without realising it, and got infected just when the immune system was down...

_Or maybe it was that time when Mel and I..._

The doctor gave me prescription for some antibiotics and more paracetamol.

"...and give him plenty of fluids as well." Was the last thing I remembered the doctor saying to Roger.

"I'll check back on you from time to time. So you just rest there, Neiar."

_Well, what else was there left for me to do?_

Tonight was going to be hell. I just wanted to collapse until at least the next morning, but even falling asleep was difficult. I was sore all over.

_Not to mention down there...maybe it _was_ where the infection originated... _

That night was colder than usual too, and it didn't make the situation any better. There was a huge bottle of water on the bedside table and a packet of medicine sitting beside a small plastic container of ice. And I had an ice cold cloth over my forehead. But I just felt so...uncomfortable. I couldn't even tell whether I was feeling cold or hot, and all my joints were sore. Not to mention there was a hint of nausea sitting at the pit of my stomach.

Maybe it was the fever talking, but suddenly I felt helpless and fragile. Even Roger wasn't looking after me constantly, he just said he'd check back on me once in a while. There was a certain fear forming in my head, what if things got worse? What if I needed to vomit or had spasms or something? I was alone in my dark room, and no one was within an arm's reach.

I hated being sick.

I remembered thinking that when I finally managed to fall asleep briefly, but it wasn't such a pleasant experience after all because I had dreams about Mellina. That girl hasn't crossed my mind for ages now, and now suddenly she was haunting me in my dreams. I jerked awake and found myself drenched in sweat, then the sore joints hit me again.

_That little slag..._

My head was _killing_ me.

And it was suddenly so cold.

I couldn't escape. All I wanted to do was sleep and hoped the headache would disappear eventually, but as soon as I closed my eyes I was terrorised by images of Mellina again.

_Go away..._

I felt sick. But nothing would come out. I know I hadn't eaten anything the whole day, which was not a good idea, but it wasn't like I had any appetite anyway.

_Someone...would someone...?_

Roger didn't check on me. Maybe he did when I was asleep and assumed everything was alright.

My head hurt so much...

Then I felt a sudden violent jerk all over...it felt so cold and hot at the same time...

The inflammation was getting worse...and this was probably the last intervention my immune system had to resort to...

I was about to have minor spasms...

That was when I sensed a sudden warmth gripping my wrist tight.

_Was that who I thought it was?_

"Neiar!" the familiar raspy voice confirmed it all.

Mel held down the newly-dipped cloth over my forehead firmly, letting the ice-cold dampness seeped through my skin...and then...

"Wait...!" I felt something shoved into my mouth, and then reflexively bit on it.

It was Mel's fingers. He let me bit on them so I didn't have to bite my own tongue.

"Wait...here, bite this..." he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with another piece of fabric.

_I thought he hated me._

"Mel...you..."

"Just shut up, you moron." he snapped at me.

_His other hand was still holding on to my wrist._

"Only stupid sods like you come down with an infection this bad." he whispered again.

Great. So he believed I fell sick because I wasn't smart enough not to.

So yeah, maybe I didn't feed myself right, maybe I never exercised enough, and none of them did my immune system any favour, but all I knew now was that I was very sick and Mel was taking care of me. Of all people.

_MELLO:_

Stupid sod was literally dying from a mere bacterial infection.

Neiar was weak as hell and it would've been so easy to kill the bastard.

Why was I helping him anyway?

Because he didn't know how to take care of himself? Or because I enjoyed watching him in pain?

Neiar, you _idiot_.

His white shirt was drenched in sweat, yet he was shivering. Great. Well on your way to potential pneumonia. So I ran to the nearest bathroom and nicked a towel, before rushing back to his room. Without any warning, I hauled him up and pulled his soaked shirt off. He was looking at me strangely through heavy-lidded eyes, but I ignored them.

"Don't even say anything, Neiar."

The sheets he was sleeping on were damp too, so I set the towel there and laid him back down on the dry layer.

He was thin as a rake, and paler than anything I've ever seen. I could even see his ribs protruding out in the limited light.

The spasms didn't end up attacking him fully. He was just trembling fervently, his body struggling to fight off the pathogens. So I carefully slid the piece of cloth out of his mouth, and used it to wipe sweat off his body.

"Mel..."

"Oh, please. It's not like I haven't seen anything, Neiar."

If he could just stop being stupid for one second, I probably wouldn't have been half as annoyed.

_Did Father Samuel felt like this too when he was washing me? _

I shook the memoirs off and concentrated back on drying him up. Images of Neiar and me filled my mind instead. I've seen this body so many times. I've felt it inside me. This skin, this smell, so familiar...so _intimate_...

_Mel...stop..._

Did you like me touching you like that?

_I think we should stop doing this._

Did you like me kissing you like that?

_Do you want me that much?_

Did you like having me inside you?

Neiar was always such a paradox...cold on the outside, but boiling hot on the inside. I've felt him like that in more ways than one.

And now he was lying there, weak and helpless, all dependent on me.

When I was done cleaning him up, I pulled the blanket back up and covered him again. The images stopped immediately.

_Why did I care about him so much anyway?_

So I sat down and leaned against the side of his bed as I watched him slowly drifting off to sleep.

_This was going to be one hell of a long night._

And I was right. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep myself, Neiar got delirious. Although it wasn't until I heard his head thrashing from side to side.

I lifted my head heavily and reached up...

_Did he just grabbed my hand?_

"Uhh...Mel..."

Rubbing my eyes, I tried to think of the best way to wake him up.

He was still pale as ever, this time even his lips hardly had any colour in them.

His blood pressure must've hit rock bottom.

"Sssshhh...Neiar...hey..." Changing the ice cloth on his forehead was the best I could do.

"Mel...lina..."

_What?_

I've missed that...since it clashed with my own shushing.

Although I knew better than to try and make out something intangible like that. It sounded like he was saying 'Mel' then 'Linda' or something...

_Like I cared. _

Neiar's grip on my hand tightened briefly. And I let it.

What time is it anyway? I glanced at the near-by clock.

02:36AM.

Ah, shit. How much longer of this will he have?

Then everything went quiet. He was lying there limp again, breathing quietly. His grip on my hand weakened and dropped.

_Neiar, you..._

"Idiot."

_NEIAR:_

When I woke up the next morning, I felt much better.

The room was empty as expected.

I looked up at the clock, it said 10:15AM.

_Last night..._

What happened last night anyway?

I thought I was imagining Mel coming over and looking after me.

But when I saw the tell-tale dent on the side of the bed, I knew that night wasn't a dream.

So, feeling healthier than ever, I leaned back and let out a contented sigh.

Overloading on nutrients and vitamins and getting maximum rest was definitely on the agenda for today. I'd need the extra energy.

_That is, if I wanted to be good as new tonight._

And my calculations worked out perfectly. So before I knew it, I was heading down the White Room again.

He was already there, standing right in front of L's portrait.

The familiar platinum blond hair and wild eyes was staring back at me.

"Mel..."

"Neiar..."

For once, the violence subsided. Then he opened his mouth.

"I think we should stop doing this."

That was unexpected, but it didn't stop me from backing him against the wall and pinned his wrists over his head, whispering softly in his ear,

"Speak for yourself...hypocrite."

END OF INTERLUDE


	4. Chapter 3

_Standard warning: Language, violence, sex, R18+_

Set between ch.66-67.

**PART 3: Encounter.**

_Los Angeles__, USA__, 2009._

_NEIAR:_

I never thought I'd ever set foot in this city.

The land of plastic movie stars and bad Hollywood movies.

But here I was, loitering around with the big city lights over my head hurting my eyes, and for the millionth time, twirling my hair around my finger.

And the (I don't know whether it was the best or worst) part was that I was alone.

A total stranger in the big city. Not that it was the first time. When I first set foot in Washington D.C I was an English lost in the U.S. The Little White Brit or kid, some of the SPKs had said jokingly.

_Would he be like that too? _

_A Pom lost in L.A?_

I'd told Commander Lester that this was something I just had to do myself, and to keep it from the rest of the SPK members. However, it was imperative that we stayed in solid contact.

Besides, it wasn't like I had "SPK" written all over my face.

I just _had_ to do this. Although I wasn't entirely sure how everything would turn out, it was worth a shot, and I wasn't planning on just sitting there waiting for things to unfold.

_4 years is a long time._

_He_ could've had nothing to do with the whole thing, but Mr.Yagami's hints about the chocolate bar just made me unable to let it go.

_Him._

The one who's always been on my mind these past few years.

_Mello...you've always been too emotional and have ended up being careless with serious matters..._

Although now it was more than that.

I was depending almost entirely on instinct here, but it was better than nothing.

And having some of the SPK members killed right under my nose was more than enough reason to get here.

This was _personal_.

Worse still, I had no back-up plan. Everything was vague, and anything could happen. But it was the least I could do, and at the rate of how things were going, I didn't have much choice.

_I'll chase you down myself._

And I _will_ find you.

Walking down the shadier side just off Santa Monica was not a very glamorous experience. When I first got here, I had no more than a medium-sized backpack clinging to my shoulders which made me look like a student more than anything, at least during the time between the airport and the cheap motel. After dumping my bag there, I stepped out of the motel armed only with a not-so-thick wallet. Commander Lester _did_ say the place wasn't _that_ far from my prepared accommodation anyway. It was slowly getting dark, so I paced up a little bit, wondering not for the first time if I should've taken a cab.

Darkness wasn't the _only_ reason, though.

Hating to admit it, a latent thrill was slowly growing within from the prospect of seeing Mel again after 4 years.

Four years is a_ long_ time.

_To leave the Institute...and only leaving your picture behind..._

I still had his photo with me, at the moment somewhere in my backpack. Not that I needed it right now.

_I wonder what he's like now?_

Suddenly loud thumping music beats emerged like a kick up my face.

Arrays of nightclubs were thrown before me, their blinding neon-lights added to the effects as a few cars pulled up on the pavement.

Not the glam types, though. Which was good, because areas like this tend to be inconspicuous.

After turning around a few times and half-circling the area, I spotted the signboard.

"Deviant".

It couldn't have been more of an underground of L.A. While the rich wasters pulled up their plastic escorts along in their six-figured car rides, the tattooed gum-chewing freaks all accumulated here. I must've looked so out of place, wearing all-white like this.

Commander Lester said everything had been taken care of. And he knew about some leads regarding Mel in L.A area.

But what I didn't tell him was the random address of a place from an anonymous source. They said they had reasons to believe I'd find him in this place.

At first I wondered if they'd let me in.

And it turned out to be more than easy.

They did ask for my ID, though. But considering it was an 18+ club I needn't even bother to get a fake one. The black latex-clad bloke with painful-looking facial piercings took a quick look and then gestured me in. The door was so low I almost felt the need to duck. And I wasn't particularly tall.

It was sort of a lounge-slash-club type of place. I wouldn't say it was small, but I wouldn't say it was huge either. And the place was quite packed already, at least for this hour. Some people were already dancing, and the rest were crowding on the randomly-scattered seats or leaning against the wall, holding drinks or smoking cigarettes.

The music got louder and my view got darker as I stepped further in, inevitably nudging and bumping into a few people. The walls were pitch black with the occasional wallpaper chips, but I supposed they left it that way on purpose because it looked "kinda arty". Strange sparkly things were dangling from the ceiling, the interior was splattered with neon red glows.

A few goths and punks dressed in spiky leather were giving me strange looks.

_Would he be wearing stuff like that too?_

I wondered if he had changed much in the past 4 years.

I wouldn't have been too surprised if he dyed his hair black or pierced his bellybutton or something.

Now of course I didn't expect to bump into him face-to-face straight, but I couldn't help keeping my hopes up.

_Where are you?_

"Can I get you a drink, hun?"

The somewhat intimidating voice came from a skimpy cocktail-dressed girl carrying an empty tray. She was taller than me. At least with those sky-high boots, which was the next thing that stood out after her outfit.

"I'm fine, thanks."

After slowly getting used to the sights, I pushed deeper into the crowd, hoping to catch a familiar glimpse of anyone...or anything. Which was pretty unlikely by the looks of things.

Music was banging louder against my eardrums, old-school-techno mix (or whatever they called it these days) thumping non-stop, making the air around felt heavier.

_/What an odd situation.../_

Looking around a bit more, trying to look more relaxed or at least less out-of place, my eyes found a sort of a stage-like structure on the upper right-hand corner of the club to focus on. It was rather small, I'd say it wouldn't fit more than two regular-sized people, with a pole in the middle. There were glittery metal fences surrounding it, high enough for it to look like a half-done cage, but low enough for a person to climb in and out. I spotted there was only one person dancing inside, and some random people were dancing around it, or just half-heartedly moving or leaning against the cage.

_/...come and be a dancer.../_

The cage dancer looked quite young, maybe he or she wasn't even legal...

Then I took a second glance and stopped short.

_No._

_Could it be?_

Platinum blonde hair, topping a lean figure wearing all black, moving wildly to the thundering beats...

_/...dance into my daydream.../_

I found myself struck dumb, and staring, my eyes squinting, searching the ever-moving lights, waiting for it to fall on the figure of my interest.

Of course, there must be hundreds of other blondes in the room, but probably not with that particular cut.

I shuffled closer to get a better look, and when I caught a glimpse of a very familiar-looking rosary dangling around his neck, that cleared it all.

_I've found you._

The Mello I saw now was nothing like the Mello I remembered from 4 years ago. Back then he was just like a fragment of a major puzzle. Now he was full-blown, wild and complete. Those added years have given him even more edge, his rough features were darker and sexier in the random lights...definitely more muscular than me. He had black leather wrapping his body tight, a steer contrast to his gothic pale skin. A large bar of chocolate in one gloved hand as expected, as he danced the night away like there was no tomorrow. And there was no mistaking those eyes. Deep, intense and predatory eyes, but occasionally closed, as he drowned himself in the music, letting his arms stretched above his head while beads of sweat dripping down his neck were starting to sparkle against the random lights.

_/...join me in my daydream wet and wild.../_

Something was stirring inside me. Dragging me out forcefully to those days back in Winchester.

The Wammy's House.

The White Room.

_I'll make you remember me for the rest of your life._

And now he was right in front of me. I could just walk up to him and reach out...

_/...come and let your wild side show.../_

Mel...

But something unexplainable stopped me in the process. It was as if my subconscious didn't want to shatter the illusion, although I knew damn well that it wasn't an illusion.

_/...I guess you see, I have another daydream.../_

His actions didn't make it any easier to convince myself, though. The music was changing, into a less thunderous but more smooth, sensual beat. A mix of old disco music with underground techno, but melodically dark and teasing, with breathy sounds in the background. Above and in front of me, Mel was spinning around, swaying his hips from side to side, gyrating sensuously, making anyone who stared at him, boys or girls, want to take him home. At one point, he held on to the pole, threw his head back ignorantly, still licking at the chocolate bar while his body dragged up and down against it.

I've never seen a sight quite so...

_"Neiar...ahhhh...aaahhhh...don't stop..."_

Just as I was trying to pull myself back together, I realised that his seductive manners had turned even more obscene.

My goodness, what the hell was he doing? Did he just slip a finger along the rim of his pants and tugged it down slightly? A millisecond later, it was back to the hip-swaying routine.

If he was a stripper he would've made tons of money by now.

And it wasn't just my imagination.

Then I realised.

_He saw me._

_MELLO:_

I knew it was him the moment he walked in.

No idiot would walk into Deviant dressed like _that._

He hasn't changed one bit. Expect maybe the fact that traces of baby fat that I could occasionally spot 4 years go were now totally gone. Looking down on him, amongst all those people, I could tell more than anyone else could. But apart from that, Neiar was Neiar.

Neiar with his stupid white shirt and pants, with his subconscious compulsions of twirling around with his silvery hair, and those blank ignorant eyes. Ghostly Near, always out of place, always unreal...was now standing down there, staring up at me with pure interest.

_Well, look who's second now?_

I had known he would find me here. Which proved my suspicions correct.

He _was_, after all, part of SPK.

I had arranged it this way, and so far it was going well. Just in case I completely missed out on the opportunity to ever see him again.

What a relief to think that anything to do with me still made him tick, in a way that nothing else can.

_Did you miss me, Neiar?_

I stopped dancing gradually and climbed out of the cage, gesturing him to follow me. Luckily I was on the slightly less crowded side of the club, so if I lost him he'd definitely catch up to me.

This was going to be _interesting_.

Gesturing to Miller's bouncer buddy on the side, I made my way to the back, after quickly notifying him, "The kid in white. Let 'em in." He nodded.

Climbing up the stairs to the office felt longer than usual.

Deviant was a perfect choice for this liaison. Not only did the owner left the doors open to us, it was also not the major places well-known for drug trafficking and the likes. As for secret hideouts, I had at least hundreds of alternatives. Even this office alone had at least one escape route, and I'm not talking about fire escapes here. The co-owner of this club had connections to a marijuana mob and somehow linked back to Miller. At least for once, he was useful. Safe that and the Death Note testing. Not that I usually spoke ill of the dead.

The manager's office was empty as expected. The hideous brown interior never failed to disgust me. Apart from the huge lamp which adjustable light intensity and a glass divider, all the decorations, furniture and contemporary paintings there failed to make the room look any better.

Leaving the door open, I waited until the unmistakable steps approached me.

He left a bit of space in between. Smart little man.

Then again, Neiar had _always_ been smart.

Although it was unlikely that anyone would give a shit about me walking into the office with a guest.

Taking the last bite off my chocolate, I sat down and waited. Sure enough, Neiar appeared and shut the door behind him.

I buried myself on the couch and crossed my legs.

_Well, look who's here._

The lighting was dim, but it was much better than downstairs. Now I could have a real good look at him.

He was not much different than the image in my mind for the past 4 years. The whole white appearance hasn't changed at all. His silver hair, wild and sticking out from too much finger-play, his pale skin that became one with his white shirt, pants and socks. And those eyes, still empty as ever, but this time slightly more alert and acknowledging.

Then something else caught my eyes. Those added 4 years have contributed certain sharpness in his features. Not just physically, but the overall aura as well. His jaw line and cheekbones were well-defined, more masculine than I remembered seeing him last, and much taller too. His lean frame, long slender legs, arms and soft but strong hands were the major contributor to his overall ethereal presence. And I had to admit there was a certain, unexplainable sensuality about him that I couldn't describe otherwise. No words were accurate enough.

"Mello."

"Neiar. It _is_ you."

"You haven't changed much yourself."

"It certainly has been awhile."

I knew what that was supposed to mean.

"Come have a seat." I gestured to the hideous-coloured couch opposite me, and he did so.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Cut the nonsense," an unexpected snap escaped his mouth. But then again, he could never really snap, at least his intonation was crooked that way. There was still that inevitable politeness, wrapped in what's left of his proper Mid-Southern English accent.

Uncrossing my legs, I moved forward and looked straight into his eyes, searching some kind of after-reaction.

"Alright, let's hear it then."

"I don't think you understand the situation. At least five of my SPK members are dead. This is no joke!"

_This is personal, I think that's what you wanted to say..._

"I bloody well know that. But as you can see, I don't have the notebook. You can search me all you want, it's not here."

"We don't know exactly the potential of the notebook of death..."

_You_ may not. But _I_ do. Because unlike back then, _I'm_ now one step ahead of you!

"Look Neiar, at this rate, it seems to be the only way that we can find out everything about Kira."

He fell silent for a second, contemplating.

"Surprise of the century." I said sarcastically.

"How do I know you're not at least intending to ally with Kira?"

"I thought you knew me better than that."

That shut him up.

"Of course." He sighed.

It's working so perfectly. This is _fascinating._

"Mind you, just because you don't have it with you at the moment don't think I'll assume that you have no idea of its whereabouts."

Of course. I knew you all too well. There was no way you're letting go of _that_.

I got off my chair and walked towards him. He looked up at me with no expression.

"Well, aren't you going to start questioning me then? Or maybe...searching me?"

Are you the least confused now, Neiar?

"Mel..."

_It's been too long since I heard him call my name like that._

"That's not the issue here. I've already developed the fact that there's no way in hell you're going to fill me in on the whereabouts of the Note."

"So why are you here then?"

"I'm here to straighten things up."

I nearly died laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"You? Anti-social inhuman Neiar, want to try and _straighten things out_?"

"Mel, listen to me!"

"No, _you_ listen. I'm so sick of all your stuck-up antics! So yeah, you're now some SPK big-shot, genius number-one detective whatever, but if you think that you can just waltz in here and talk things out and get things done your way, then you're horribly wrong! I've always hated that about you, Neiar, your ignorance, your _arrogance_!"

He stood up and looked me in the eye.

"Well, what am _I_ supposed to say? Most of my SPK members are dead, Mello! And I'm not allowed to do shit about it!"

"You already said that. And as far as I'm concerned, Kira is still somewhere out there, alive and well, prancing about and executing whoever he likes! Not so useful are you, you and your SPKs?"

The way this was going, I'd be sure to enjoy myself way too much.

"That's one of the reasons why I'm here. "

Kira? One of the reasons?

Oh. I get it.

"What? To suck up to me so we can work together on the Kira case? In yer dreams!"

"That's not it!"

He drew in a long breath and turned sideways.

"Mel...I'm telling you...you might be in danger. Both you and I, actually."

"Living in danger shouldn't be news for either you or me."

"No. The thing is, I was in a position where I was forced to give out some information about you and me, about the Wammy's House, to the second L. So there's always a possibility that Kira could trace up on us."

"But Kira doesn't know our real names. Let alone our faces."

"You know..."

"Yes, Neiar, I know that far already."

"I see. But still, we'd better assume the worst."

That was kind of inevitable. If Kira really was going to trace up to the Wammy's House, he'd find out about the both of us together. So if anything happens to me, one way or the other, I could try to manipulate the situation so that I'm taking him down with me.

"Assume the worst, huh?"

"Right."

Better start laying down his flaws.

"If I were you, my worst case scenario would be this: what guarantee do I have that Kira has absolutely no idea about the existence of SPK and the likes?"

His eyes narrowed. I think he knew the direction I was going.

"Meaning, how could you come to a straight assumption that I had anything to do with the murder of the SPK members? Didn't you take Kira into account?"

Neiar was way too silent.

"Not so sharp now, are you?"

"I do have reasons to believe so. Since all the hoo-hah with the spy in my SPK team, then the kidnapping of the Japanese Police Chief's daughter, and then the goddamn missile? It's just not Kira's style, incase you haven't noticed. Really, Mel, for your information, you're not too good at being subtle!"

Of course. Self-righteous, all-innocent, stuck-up prude Neiar. He hasn't changed one bit.

"Sure you think so, Mr.'I'm-So-Much-Better-Than-Everyone-Else-I'm-Always-Right'."

Neiar flinched slightly, looking at me analytically.

"And for your information only, the SPK was the _least_ of my concerns!"

A smile crept up my face, as I walked away and searched for my secret stash of chocolate bars behind the work desk around the corner. Unwrapping it quickly, I caught a glimpse of Neiar looking at me in bewilderment.

I did plan everything carefully to get to Kira before the SPK and Neiar does. And it was all working towards my favour. No more Mr.Superior for you, Neiar.

_What are you going to do now?_

"Really, Mel, we don't know what this notebook of death is capable of, just as we don't know what Kira is capable of."

Biting into the next square of chocolate, I turned to him again. "You failed to mention you don't know what _I'm_ capable of."

"Look Mel, it's not just about that!"

"Oh?"

Neiar's eyes started to fill up with something. It was part disbelief, part uncertainty.

"So what is it all about then, Neiar?"

_NEIAR:_

_Doesn't he get it?_

It's the way he abandoned the Institute, dammit.

I remembered it vividly like it was yesterday. The last day I ever saw him at the House as Roger tried to stop him. He slammed the door on us with nothing to say except one sentence that lingered in my head forever.

_I'll do it my own way._

He's doing it his own way, alright.

Mel left, just like that, with nothing but a small photo left behind.

_And after all the twisted shit that happened between us._

"This is not what we're meant to do, Mel."

Didn't know you'd stoop so low.

"Says who?"

"You left the Institute just like that, saying you'd do it your own way. Look at you now. You're joining the mafia, the gangsters or whatever shit that is you're into. Is _this_ what you meant by doing it your own way? Did you really think the Institute was going to approve of _this_?"

"The Institute is not here now, Neiar. And it's my life. No one tells me how I should go about living my life. Not even the Institute."

You selfish bastard...

"Yeah, but not _this_! You're not supposed to be doing this. That's not what we were raised for."

Mel's eyes widened, and a smile crept up his face. Wild, twisted and glaring death at me.

"What about when you and I _fucked_? Was that endorsed by the Institute as well? Was that the Institute's way?"

"That's..."

"They didn't need to know, did they? Even if they did, do you think they'd give a shit!"

Mel...

_Don't stop._

No, it's not like that.

_Just don't._

Is that why?

"Mel...is this what it's all about?"

He looked at me with squinted piercing eyes, biting roughly at his chocolate bar.

"What?"

"Is that why you're like this to me? Because of the things we did back then?"

"No, of course not, you idiot!"

Snapping away, he threw his hands to his sides in one abrupt motion. "That has nothing to do with anything!"

Maybe the things we did at the House _were_ part of what made us into who we are now. One extreme versus the other. At least, that was one way that I accepted it.

We _had_ to. I needed to do it just as much as he did.

Before I knew it, he's moved closer right in my face, putting a hand on my right shoulder. Penetrating me through his eyelids, he lowered his voice, "Did you miss it, Neiar?"

_Neiar__...aaahhh...!_

"Did you miss me fucking you?"

"Mel, stop!" Batting his hand away, I turned around and found myself wondering.

What's gotten into me? Why did I come here anyway?

"I shouldn't have bothered."

He smiled another condescending smile. "Are you pissed off because I'm ahead of you now?"

"You know that's not it."

You're always the one who've been so hell-bent on outsmarting me anyway. Although I admit that was one of the things I enjoyed about you...

"So what have you got to offer now?"

"You said it yourself, we could never work together as a team."

Not in this particular way, at least.

If he only knew. Not one day has passed without me wondering where he was. And I couldn't help wondering if he ever...

"Alright then. Enlighten me, Neiar. Fix me. Isn't that what they taught you at the Institute? To fix fucked-up criminals like me?"

At the rate this was going, he was on a winning streak. For all I knew, he probably even knew who the second L was already.

And that annoyed me like nothing ever before.

"Mel, you just...you won't get away with this."

"Try me."

"You are still part of the Institute just as much as I am..."

"Fuck the Institute!"

BLAMM! CRASSHH!

"Aw!"

Before I knew it, one side of the room collapsed, and the ground shook wildly beneath my feet, as I slid across the floor and bumped into the couch.

"What the _fuck_!" Mel's outburst was almost buried by the following crash-banging sound.

An explosion?

A..._bomb_?

"Shit...Neiar, run!"

I was only a few steps behind Mello when suddenly the glass divider beside one of the couches collapsed and took down all the decorations and lamps beside it. Sure enough, loud sounds of glass shattering and other furniture pieces breaking soon followed. Cowering reflexively, I picked the pace back up and searched the nearest way out. Luckily the doorway I originally entered from was not that much affected.

"Mel?"

_Crack!_

A faint crackling sound made me turn around and spotted Mel half-buried underneath the collapsing furniture, glass and lamps. He was on his sides, trying to crawl back out.

_Dammit_

"Mel!" I rushed towards him and shoved away the rather expensive rubble off him.

"I'm alright...just...get this shit off..."

Dragging him out in the process after pushing aside whatever I could grasp, it was obvious that he was a bit stunned.

"You can walk...right?"

_Please tell me you could walk._

"Yeah..."

He gradually stood up, and for once his ego didn't get in the way as I helped him up. Wrapping one of his arms around my shoulder, his feet picked up the pace and within seconds had no problem with walking alongside me.

This might not be the end of the danger yet, as there was no guarantee that there will be no follow-up explosion after this...

As soon as we got out of the office, I was met by panicking club-goers frantically squeezing through every exit door they could find. Some bumped into me, and I could already see some wounded ones. Screams filled the entire club, it was total chaos. Everything was buried in smoke, everyone was blinded, only able to fumble around.

Shit. This is _bad_.

_Was it Kira?_

"Neiar, over here!"

I was oblivious to the fact that Mel had unwrapped himself from around my shoulders until I felt a tug on my left arm. Next thing I knew, he took the lead, pulling the both of us to squeeze through a crowd of what's left of the visitors. After what felt like ages, we came across an emergency exit and I spotted an army of fire brigades and police cars already starting to accumulate around the area. A group of bystanders were already flocking up, some of them lent a helping hand, some of them just stood there and watched.

It was a bomb, alright. Not a big one, but enough to get people badly hurt. Luckily enough, the office upstairs wasn't affected all that much, but if we didn't escape on time...

_If it really was Kira..._

I didn't sense any motive, though...

_Unless..._

I realised that Mel was still pulling on my arm, running further from the club behind us. Trying to catch my breath, I managed to ask,

"Where a..."

"Just shut up and follow me!"

So I did, and that lead us to a rather huge car park on the side of the road. A black Toyota sedan was waiting as Mel reached for his key and deactivated the immobiliser.

I was about to get into the passenger side when I changed my mind.

"I'll drive."

"It's alright, I can manag..."

I slammed the door hard and rushed to the other side.

"I said I'll drive! Hand me the keys, Mel. Now."

He looked at me reluctantly for a few seconds, before finally handing over the keys and walked over to the passenger side. Pulling down the safety belt and turning on the engine almost at the same time, I looked over to him who still looked kind of out of it.

I just hoped he wasn't badly hurt or anything.

The car was on reverse park, so there was less of a hassle to get out. "Just tell me where to go."

Mel sighed in his seat.

"Once you get out of the parking lot, turn left. Just keep going until you find an intersection."

I wouldn't call myself the best driver at night, especially in a city I wasn't so familiar with and depending almost entirely on Mel's directions, but I managed. It wasn't even 20 minutes. We pulled into a rather deserted building apparently used for a cheap short-stay apartment.

"Park there, in the corner."

Following his instructions, I stopped the car and handed the keys back to him.

"Thanks."

It was weird hearing him thanking me like that. But I didn't comment, and followed him into the building. Once we got in, it actually looked better than the outside.

Mello opened the door to his room in front of me, and without saying anything went straight in, expecting me to shut the door behind us.

The room was neither big nor small. It had all the essentials, an unmade bed, a TV, a side table with a drawer, a chair and a bathroom. On the corner desk with the side lamp, a stash of chocolate bars were heaped on top of it, all the same brand. The radio-alarm on the side table was on, making faint sounds of the DJs introducing the next song.

Then I looked at him.

"Mel, you're bleeding."

"What? Oh, right..."

There was a considerably lengthy cut on his inner upper right arm. I turned the main light on to get a better look at him. I spotted another minor bruise on his chin, but the bleeding had started to dry off. Another bruise on his left lower arm, but that was a minor one.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?" I didn't quite know why I asked that question. I supposed I wasn't sure what else was there to say.

"Feh. This is nothing. Dab some iodine and it'll be fine." He got up suddenly and headed to the bathroom. The sounds of running water broke the silence, as if a way of telling me that he could take care of himself. Not waiting for him to let me take a seat, I slid down to the edge of his bed, my body suddenly acknowledging the growing exhaustion. Mello came out a few minutes later with a bandage already wrapping his upper right arm, obviously done in a rush half-heartedly. A stark contrast to the black leather wrapping the rest of his body.

His skin was still as pale as I remembered, as I noticed his hands were now glove-free, revealing jet-black nail polish. They looked odd at first, but somehow suited him just fine.

There was an aura of unexplained sensuality about his presence. Maybe it was his accent as well. The unmistakable Cockney twang was still there, but now it's more polished and cosmopolitan.

Then I saw something else, but couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Mel..."

When he looked at me in the eye, I realised what it was.

A streak of _fear_.

_MELLO:_

Is this what people called _de ja vu_?

It was just like 4 years ago.

Neiar was sitting there against the wall in the White Room, blending in with it. Waiting for the next thing to hit him right in the face.

In most cases, it was me.

But that was then. This is now. We weren't in the White Room, and we weren't 15 anymore.

Neiar was now 19, as far as I knew, sitting there at the edge of my bed, one leg folded up so that his chin was leaning on his knee. He turned around and faced me, his fingers stopped twirling around his silvery hair.

_Some things never changed after all._

His eyes were still looking at me with the same look from 4 years ago. Only this time not as empty.

_Neiar_

"Is it alright?" his sudden flat question broke the silence.

_What?_

"Huh?"

"Me, staying here?"

_I thought he was asking about my wounds._

"Have I kicked you out yet?"

"Do you want to?"

"Should I?"

Silence fell once again.

_I just saw you again after 4 years, you moron! I'm not finished with you yet. _

I wasn't about to say that out loud, though.

Walking over to the other side, I fiddled around with the radio alarm button.

"No news about it yet?" Neiar turned towards the electronic device too.

"There should be, soon. This is L.A, after all." I finally stopped at a random station. Some DJ talking about the weather, but then turned into some old 90s rock music.

"Is it Kira?" Now _that_ was quite a turn of the situation.

"I don't know...you reckon?"

At the moment I really couldn't care less.

"Mel, about that conversation we had before..."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Pulling at the duvet, I gave him a bored look, and made my way in. He slid to the floor, sighing. And sat there for the next few minutes, contemplating.

I lied on my bed, in complete silence. I was still getting used to the fact that Neiar was sitting on the floor beside my bed, leaning against it. It was so quiet, I was sure we could hear each other's breathing.

_Neiar_

God, this felt so familiar.

_I think we should stop doing this._

Images of the White Room and Wammy House filled my head. It was inevitable.

_Do you want me that much?_

Maybe I do. More so now than I did back then.

That bomb was quite scary. If it was Kira, what was the motive? Why would he be randomly blowing up clubs?

Unless...

_Was he aiming on anything in particular?_

One thing's for sure, though. The silence was getting on my nerves.

"Neiar..."

"Yes?"

"Do you think Kira is after me?"

"Um..."

What do you mean 'um'?

"It will depend. I mean, it would probably be the worst case scenario, but right now let's say it's a safe assumption to think there's always a possibility."

An interesting question formed in my mind.

"Were you convinced that you would get to me first before Kira, assuming Kira really was after me?"

Silence. And then a long sigh.

"Yes. Without a doubt."

Now that was unexpected. "Why?"

"I'm just working with what I know so far. Kira needs the person's real name and face to kill them. And as far as I know, he has neither."

It was like he was saying 'Don't flatter yourself'.

I tried to deflect my attention away from him.

If it really was Kira, I'd say it was a rather sloppy job though. And terribly random.

_Unless he was after something in particular..._

This was starting to become uncomfortable. Irritatingly so.

"But you got a hold of the Note before I did. So you should know better now, shouldn't you?"

Will you drop the act for once?

"There's no need to be such a sore loser, Neiar."

As if reading my mind, he got up and looked down on me. "Do you want me to go?"

_This feeling...what is thing feeling?_

Suddenly my mouth felt dry. For once, there was an unexplainable tightness within me but I couldn't describe where exactly.

It was almost like 4 years ago.

_Neiar__, stop!_

_Make me Mel, make me._

Right back at me.

"No."

I finally said.

"Stay."

Neiar sat back down on the floor.

The air was getting weirder by the minutes. I looked at the alarm radio. Ten minutes past midnight.

I wondered if I'd get any sleep.

It was strangely uncomfortable, as I sensed an intriguing twitch deep inside, and I still couldn't tell where from.

_Was that Kira's doing?_

But I thought Kira was only after criminals. Why would he set up a bomb at some random club?

Was he after _me_?

This was getting ridiculous.

"Mel..."

_Thank goodness. The silence was killing me._

"What?"

"Do you think I should turn off the AC?"

Is that important?

"Why?"

"You're shuddering."

_I think we should stop doing this._

_Speak for yourself, hypocrite._

_Mel, why..._

_Don't even say anything, Neiar..._

Something was not right.

But the air between us spoke for itself.

_What the hell was this?_

This was nothing particularly concrete. Nor abstract either.

Suddenly everything dissolved into the reality of the situation.

There was only me and Neiar, in a dim one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of L.A...with random noises coming out of the lo-fi alarm radio.

No White Room. No Kira. No nothing.

_And we weren't 15 anymore._

"Neiar, stop," my breath caught itself under my throat, when it finally sunk in. Neiar had dropped all his weight on top of me sideways, and putting his arms around.

He got up all at once.

_No, actually..._

"Sorry."

_Don't _stop

"Did you think things will get better by doing that?"

He looked at me the way he did 4 years ago.

Then...

SLAP!

"Dammit, Mello! What do you want me to say to get it through your thick skull that it's not okay! Everything is not okay! What you're doing is not okay!"

Rubbing my reddened cheek, I got up and glared at him. "Didn't I say before? Fuck the Institute!"

"It's not that, Mel! At the rate this is going, you might..." he stopped and turned. Then his fingers went back to playing with his hair again.

"Might not what? What is it? Say it Neiar! I might not make it, is that what you want to say?"

"We don't know what Kira is capable of!"

I know you don't want Kira to get in the way. Because you want to have me under your own control.

_Because that's exactly what you're like. _

"Don't underestimate me."

"I didn't."

"Don't give me that bollocks! You damn well did! Just the way you always did since 4 years ago!"

He glared at me with strange orbs forming in his irises.

_Do you want to fuck me too? Like you did 4 years ago?_

"Mel..."

"I'd rather get killed first than have you walk all over me."

It wasn't until I couldn't move my body at all and the wound in my arm stung that I realised how much power Neiar had over me right now.

"Aw..."

He hissed in my ears sharply I closed my eyes reflexively. "So that's how low you would go, huh, Mello? To feed your own inferiority complex against me you'd rather have Kira walk all over you? Hm!"

Breathing was suddenly very heavy for the both of us.

"I thought we were both all about hunting Kira down and put him to death penalty, but I seem to have made a mistake here!"

He had one leg pinning mine down, setting all his weight on me, one hand pinning my wrists over my head, and another one holding the bottom of my face, shaking like crazy. Looking down at me with that never-ending labyrinth in his eyes, I struggled to glare right back at them.

"Ugh...stop.."_  
_

He let go of my face, accidentally scraping the bruise on my chin in the process.

A familiar view...an inevitable _de ja vu_...again...

What's gotten into...

"Neiar, what the..."

Before I knew it, he was already bent down and licking at my bruise.

What are _we_ doing?

"You're bleeding..."

He lifted his face up, and I couldn't help staring back at him, licking his lips, tasting my blood...

_Mel...ahhh..aaah..stop..._

It was wrong 4 years ago.

_What are you doing to me, Neiar?_

Will it make it less wrong now that we were no longer 15, no longer at the Institute...and feeling like this?

I wasn't sure who started it, but the next second everything became a blur as Neiar's mouth landed on mine, traces of my own blood slowly seeping into my taste buds.

_Was it really about to happen again? After 4 years of nothing?_

This was the mouth I was so familiar with 4 years ago...this kiss, hot and cold at the same time, unmistakably Neiar's...

Shoving his tongue deeper, I couldn't help it when my hitching breath caught in his mouth...

_I can't believe this was really happening..._

Neiar...did you want this too? Were you thinking about it before?

A part of me wanted him to stop for a second, just to let everything sink in, just to check that it was all alright...

_Make me, Mel. Make me._

But like back then, once we were caught in the same trap over and over again, any thoughts about stopping just went straight out the window.

His hands were trailing down my face...rough and strong fingers I remembered from back then...

Kissing Neiar had always been an unexplainable experience. To describe the way he tasted, the way his texture felt, the way his breath smelt and blended with my own...no words could really capture it.

Drawing my hand up, I grabbed a handful of his hair, pressing him against me more.

_Neiar__, you..._

This time, something was a bit different, though. There was a certain aura surrounding Neiar that I didn't find 4 years ago.

He wasn't a boy anymore. Back then all we had was raw lust, something we've just discovered and explored more with immature fascination.

Now, there was more to it. There was a certain _awareness_ about each other that was overwhelming, as if being taken over by each other's existence was just not enough. It wasn't just about climaxing and how much pleasure we got from each other anymore.

"Ahh..." The kissing gradually turned more intense, wet and breathy sounds started to race with each other...as we felt each other tensed up.

It was beyond..._intimate_.

Maybe it was also the fact that we haven't done this for 4 years.

But now I didn't care anymore.

I just wanted to _do it._

_NEIAR:_

Original sin.

That's what he was 4 years ago, that's what he is now, and that's what he'll always be.

I can't believe this was finally happening again. Those memories of the White Room were once so far away, but having him in my arms dragged it back immediately to the core of my soul.

_God...Mel..._

I was kissing Mel once again, with blind desire like never before. Then he slowly went lower...

That day when he left the Institute, I remembered it like yesterday. Since then, all that was left was the intense memories, sometimes sickening yet part of me yearned for it, to the point where pleasuring myself wasn't enough anymore.

_Do you have any idea what you've done to me, Mel?_

He was breathing heavily against my neck, so I shifted a bit, giving him some room. But his hand fisted tighter in my hair as he tried to take control. If I didn't know Mel I wouldn't thought such fervent and insatiable desire existed. He was hot, panting and twisting beneath me, wanting more of me, and I couldn't say I was any different.

"Ohh..."

My heart was suddenly thundering mercilessly, threatening to rip my ribs apart and burst my chest open. I needed to loosen up the circulation.

I felt very...hot. Feverish. Restless. Uncomfortable. I had to _do_ something about it.

I wanted it so bad...if I didn't get it I was sure I'd explode.

_I want you...really badly..._

One of Mel's hand slipped under my white shirt now, and from the way his skin was sticking against my chest I could tell I've started perspiring like I haven't been for quite a while.

_I haven't been touched like this for far too long..._

"Mel..."

Itching to do the same, I pulled down the zipper of Mel's tight black leather top impatiently, exposing the pale skin I was so familiar with. I noticed a blue mark near his sternum, probably from the impact at the office before, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. His prominent rosary was still dangling across his chest, emanating the occasional glint from the rare light.

I stopped for awhile, trying to catch my breath, then had a real good look at him beneath me. Those eyes I knew too well, wanting and lusting for me only, his chest moving up and down as his breaths slipped in and out of his now wet and swollen lips, its glistening red colour a stark contrast to his pale face.

He's _changed_, alright.

Mello was no longer that brassy 15-year-old boy who fucked me whenever he was pissed off like a little baby losing its favourite toy. He was a 19-year-old man now. Traces of his soft, curvaceous face were now completely gone, replaced by sharp features, and a toned, hard body evident in the faint muscular patterns I noticed around his stomach area. Although his intense sexual appetite never changed, if not, it's even increased by ten fold.

"Neiar..."

Tugging at my shirt sleeves impatiently, he tried to pull it off while his other hand worked on the buttons.

_/The way you're bathed in light...reminds me of that night.../_

The radio was still playing.

_/Come to me sweetly, come to me.../_

It was a rather out-of-place observation to be making at a time like this, but I couldn't help hearing it, the song rather stood out.

"Mmh..." Kissing him again and again seemed like a really good idea at the time.

I've almost forgotten how good this feels. Although Mello was the only person I've ever done it with.

His hands were on my chest, drawing invisible patterns all over, leaving warm traces along. And every single touch set fire to my insides, eventually focusing to one point.

_/See the road rise up to meet us...it's in the air we breathe tonight.../_

Suddenly there was an urge to increase the pace.

This was the main difference...as far as I knew. Because if I remembered correctly, back in the White Room, it was always quick, rushed and discreet. Now there was nothing to hide from. There was no rush. Just pure indulgence we haven't treated ourselves with for 4 years.

The next thing I knew my shirt was completely off, and Mel sat up briefly to get his entire top off.

Yes, I needed that too...

He pulled me closer, and I answered the invitation by closing the distance completely, feeling the warmth of skin against skin. Unable to take my mouth off him, I held him tighter and felt his heart pounding against me as he grew hotter and wilder in my arms, itching to become one with me.

Mel, do you have any idea how much I've thought about this for the past 4 years?

_/Oh yeah, we meet again...it's like we never left.../_

Because not long after you left the House, I've never once set foot at the White Room again.

_/...time in between was just a dream...did we leave this place/_

"Ah!"

Before I knew it, Mel had shoved his hand down my pants.

He always knew how much I liked it...and my body moved by itself, thrusting into the cup of his palm, playing with my erection through my undies, chest rubbing faster against his, wanting and needing him closer to me.

_/This crazy fog surrounds me...you wrap your legs around me.../_

I was aroused beyond words and if I wasn't careful I was in danger of coming in my pants and all over Mel's hand.

"Mel...wait...ahh..."

It was almost hard to talk as Mel's mouth was muffling my words, his saliva dripping all over, forming a thin thread connecting our lips...and with what's left of his control, he managed to mumble a few words to me,

"Neiar...touch me..."

Panting and gasping in between, searching for what's left of my coordination and control to move my hand towards the front of his pants, I grabbed on to his zipper handle and tugged it down impatiently.

He was already hard and weeping at the tip, he wouldn't have asked me to touch him unless he was this aroused. Tugging his undies aside, I grabbed hold of his erection and ran my fingers along the length.

"Ahh!"

Burying his face in my neck, muffling his moans and pants, I couldn't help but being pushed further and closer to the edge. Soft strands of blond hair caressed my shoulders, some of them wet and sticking to me glued with our mixed sweat. He had one hand mirroring my movements, and I felt more and more wetness seeping out and into his hand.

I wanted to set myself free, and him too. It was like we were restrained and if I didn't do something about it soon...

Taking his hand out of my pants, I shifted and pushed him back down on the bed, pressing one leg against his thigh, feeling the unmistakable bulge in between...

"Neiaaaar...ahh..."

Mel was pleading now.

_I know._

Lifting his legs up, gesturing him to let me take off his pants completely, he did so without much protest, and did the same to me.

It was strange. Hot. Feverish. Intimate. And I never wanted it to end. Mel was panting and writhing beneath me, naked and perfect just the way I remembered him.

"Mel...you..."

_/...let me breathe...so we can go together.../_

This time I took the initiative to run my hands all over him. Working my way down, the obscene memories rushed over me like a tsunami. He was just the way I remembered, his sensitivity, his reactions...everything. A hitch in his breath as I ran my tongue down his bellybutton. A sharp gasp as I teased his nipples with my tongue and fingers. A low moan as I licked down along his sternum. There was nothing I enjoyed more apart from making him tick. Back then, before outsmarting him, there was _this._

Nothing turned me on more. Him losing control totally because of me.

Kissing him again, he lifted his knees up which acted as a clamp that held me on either side. This way, I couldn't help feeling his erection brushing up against me...and at this stage, he was just as wet as I was.

_/...and all these wars are over...over...singin' la da da daaaaa...over...come to me, oh come to me.../_

Moving down once again, I licked my lips and focused on the epicentre of Mel's arousal between his legs...and without thinking too much, I took as much length into my mouth as possible.

"Aaahhhhh...Neiar!"

He tasted different from back then, and definitely felt bigger.

A sharp twitch, followed by arching of his back, then his hands fisted on my hair.

Licking and teasing was not on the agenda. I just picked up one steady rhythm, and sucked hard. He was hot, slippery and wet, hard and throbbing wildly, rubbing against the insides of my mouth...it was dirty, sinful and wrong, but everything felt perfect. He always thrust so hard into me, as if wanting to shove all his violent attitude to the core of my soul, wanting to bruise me, wanting to _humiliate_ me...

And for some sick masochistic reason, I found it fascinating to no end, because it was the only way he could nurse his wounded ego after being beaten by me.

_Did you like it, Mel? Did I make you lose all control the way I often did in the White Room?_

I continued working on him, harder and faster, narrowing my mouth sharply, engulfing him as tightly as possible...as a mix of his pre-cum and my saliva started dripping down my chin...

There was a metallic-sugary scent in the air...like back then...Mel was thrashing around on the bed, his head turning from side to side.

That's it._ Feel_ me.

Again and again.

_I'll make you remember me for the rest of your life..._

And as I expected, it didn't take long.

"Neiar, I'm going to...aaah...aaaaahhhhhh...!

Spraying his juices deep into my mouth, I couldn't help but choking a little. As soon as he was finished, I spat them out all over the sheets, and it didn't take long for the familiar pungent protein smell to fill the air around us.

Mel was lying on his back, panting and sighing, sweaty and pink flushes staining his skin everywhere, his platinum blonde hair damp and sticking to his face. His legs were spread around him, exposing his gradually shrinking erection.

_Back then I'd do just about anything to see him like this..._

Then I got distracted by my own aching erection screaming for attention. Like a little boy possessed, the words spilled out of my mouth just like that.

"Mel...I want to fuck you..."

He didn't answer. Instead, he shifted to the side of the bed, fumbling around the drawer in the bedside table, and threw a small plastic package into my face.

"Put it on."

I grabbed it on my hand and examined it dumbly. A lubricated purple-coloured condom.

"Ah...right..."

We never bothered about this 4 years ago. We were each other's first.

But things were different now.

"I don't know what you've been up to the past 4 years."

'I don't trust you', was basically what he was saying.

_Mel, do you know that you're my first and my last?_

But it wasn't like I had any evidence to prove it.

_MELLO:_

There was an absence of movements for a few seconds.

Then the sound of ripping package. And the crinkle of plastic and rubber.

What the hell took him so long?

"You uh, need help with that?"

_Haven't you ever used one of those before?_

Which made me then wonder if he ever slept with anyone else other than me in the past 4 years.

"I'm fine, Mello."

Back then I probably wouldn't let him get inside me without me doing it first, or some other random agreement. But right now I really couldn't care less.

Neiar and I were naked in my bed, in my secret apartment downtown L.A. There was something strange about the whole situation. It was alien yet familiar at the same time. It was just like 4 years ago, but totally different at the same time.

"Ah..."

I felt him slowly lowering his weight down, pinning me down once again. His breathing was heavy, and came in short rags, gradually blocked by my neck. Then he lifted his face again and looked down on me.

_Neiar_

Even his eyes were unreal, although they've always been somewhat unusual. There was the familiar emptiness, but this time tainted with some sort of expression. Whether it was lust or frustration, I really couldn't tell.

Strange. Ironic. Back then his inhuman, blank stares never ceased to bug me, because they were intriguingly similar to the things in my past I've always wanted to forget. But now that it was filled with something, I felt somewhat...alienated.

Because the Neiar now and the Neiar I knew back then were the same person, but the situation was manipulated. And it mainly had something to do with me.

"Mel..."

He had his hands on my legs, gesturing me to get ready. So I did.

Then he bent down and landed his mouth on mine.

Kissing Neiar always felt dreamlike yet somewhat unravelling. He was cold on the outside, yet boiling hot on the inside. Even his eyes didn't reveal that much. And they said your eyes are the windows to your soul.

His hands were all over me now, rubbing, tracing, caressing and groping...overloading me with sensations. If there was one thing Neiar was good at, it was with his hands. I've told him that once at the White Room. And he returned the compliment by saying I was good with my mouth. His rough and warm hands' touches ignited something deep inside me that I couldn't quite explain. The sensitivity was increased by tenfold.

_Neiar__, I think...I want you..._

"Ahk!"

A rather loud gasp escaped my lips as I suddenly sensed a well-lubricated finger pushing inside me.

"Hold on...Mel..."

"Uhhh..."

It was so uncomfortable...but gradually became more and more arousing...and within seconds I've found myself hard again.

Neiar took his sweet time, and slid his finger in a millimetre at a time, feeling me tensing around him...it stung a little, but when he pulled his finger out completely, I suddenly felt deprived of a particular treat.

"Ow!"

Two fingers were now making their way in, and Neiar promptly moved my legs apart further...leaving me twitching and writhing against the sheets...

Ah...Neiar...

_What was it about him that enabled me to let him do these things to me?_

And then it happened.

"Ooooohhhh...fuuuuuck! Neiar!"

It was stinging but sweet, painfully pleasurable...all in all...intense. It wasn't like he's never reached my sweet spot inside before. But I haven't had his fingers caressing my prostate for years now. And damn him, he always knew how to do it correctly.

Then the two fingers were drawn out, and something else came in to replace them.

I couldn't quite explain the feeling. At times it felt like I was being split open, but it was definitely worth it because I felt my legs shifting up willingly by themselves.

Neiar was feverishly hot, sweaty and panting on top of me, as he gradually shoved himself into me, inch by inch...bearing with the tightness.

"Ouch..."

It hurt...but I wanted more anyway.

"God...Mel..." he sighed as he finally managed to enter me fully. I was grabbing at his arms tight, twisting around uncomfortably, trying to get used to the sensation. After all, it _has_ been a while since I had him inside me.

_You dirty little slag._

I remembered saying something unintelligent like that many years ago. And of course, Neiar wasn't much of a responsive person.

But now...now was a different story.

Then he started moving.

"Ahh...ahhh...ah..."

The sounds of his ragged breaths filled the room, and I felt him sweat some more in my arms. It hurt a bit occasionally, but the sensation everytime he hit my sensitive spot was indescribable. Then he wrapped one hand around my hardness and started pumping hastily.

At this stage, it might even be better than 4 years ago in the White Room.

_Neiar_

Suddenly, everything blanked out. There was no Death Note. There was no Kira. There was no White Room and the Institute. Nothing mattered anymore. All that mattered was being in Neiar's arms, giving each other unspeakable pleasure, and dissolved in this delicious little sin.

I felt...somewhat safe. Even safer than when I was still at the Institute. Maybe it wasn't just Kira. Maybe it was the reality of having to take over everything and facing something intangible all by yourself, leading the way. A single slip could be fatal.

And that was something neither of us had to deal with 4 years ago.

It was kind of ironic, actually.

Back then it was a need to escape the confinement, to liberate ourselves. Whether it was hate or unhealthy rivalry obsession, it didn't matter. All there was was the lust, and all we had was each other.

_I hate you so much..._

Now, when we were completely free of everything, and everything was completely up to us, this became a different need. Having sex with Neiar was now an illusionary nurture, a temporary little safe place. And again, all we had was each other.

_...I want to fuck you senseless..._

He kept moving in steady rhythm, mauling my prostate over and over, driving me insane, overdosing me in ecstasy, as I unconsciously called his name again and again.

But just for tonight...I guess...

_I need you, Neiar. _

I came first, my sticky, hot seeds making a complete mess in Neiar's hand.

He thrust into me again and again, torturously, faster and harder with each throb, never wanting to stop...never wanting to let go. His protruding bones pressed hard against me, his kisses now blind and messy, leaving my lips swollen and raw.

"Ah...Mel...now...now!"

And it didn't take long.

Neiar came. As I felt him tense inside me, he let out a truly obscene moan, but quickly muffled it against the sheets. Feeling him exploding inside me was both familiar and alien, as I've experienced this before, but he never wore a condom before.

Then his grip on my sides loosened. Leaving a warm trace, it drew my attention to the mix of liquid sticking us together at the front. Not much different from 4 years ago.

And I somehow hated the thought of it being over.

He collapsed on top of me, panting and trembling, and unlike back then, he didn't get off me as quick as possible. Lying there looking up into the ceiling, I stretched a hand up and ran it through his tousled hair. They were as soft as I remembered.

This was real. As real as the weight of Neiar's hot and sweaty body pinning me down. And it strangely felt safer than ever, it was like I had a protective barrier around me.

_Do you want me now?_

I turned aside to glance at the alarm clock.

01:17 AM.

_Well, got to admit, Neiar._

Then sighed.

_It was kind of nice seeing you again after 4 years._

Now was all that mattered. Anything else after this would come back and haunt me tomorrow.

_Or whenever I let it...whenever I feel like it._

Unlike 4 years ago in the White Room, where things always haunt us down the day after, and often the only thing that could make it go away was to do it all over again.

Stretching sideways and reaching out, I pulled the bedside drawer once again, and fumbled for a bar of chocolate I didn't finish earlier.

_Well, look at you, Neiar._

Can you handle your little demons now?

If that was the reason..._I'd let you fuck me however much you like._

_Crackle._

The first bite was always so intoxicating. And I wondered if my oral fixation with chocolate had any association with the whole thing between me and Neiar.

Nevertheless, it was a little memoir.

I looked back at the figure lying on top of me.

"Neiar..."

He didn't budge.

"Hey, Neiar?"

Oh, _great._

END


	5. Epilogue

**_EPILOGUE:_**

_NEIAR:_

The first thing I saw when I woke up was the alarm clock on the bedside table.

05:47 AM.

I couldn't even remember when I fell asleep.

_What the..._

I looked around and found myself in a shady apartment room, a strange organic smell filling the air. Everything was painstakingly neat, not a piece of rubbish anywhere on the floor or the tables.

Of course. I was all alone.

I came here to L.A looking for answers, or at least a lead on the Kira case, and I was convinced that something would come up on the second day. But it turned out I was just wasting my time. I knew I shouldn't have taken the anonymous info seriously.

The club bombing last night felt like nothing but a dream. And then I somehow ended up here.

_Why, look at you, Neiar..._

_Him_. The one person I thought would be the link to all this.

I found nothing.

Mission failed after all.

_Mel, you..._

Maybe I had a dream about him.

Either way, I really should be going back soon. Getting a cab straight to the airport and catch the first flight to Washington seemed like a good idea.

Grabbing my backpack (there wasn't anything much to re-pack anyway) from the corner of my bed, I got up and thought about taking a shower.

_Why does everything feel so strange, so...out of place?_

PEEP! PEEP!

My cellphone rang, and I picked up promptly.

"Commander Lester?"

_MELLO:_

The car ride was boring as usual. Biting at my next bar of Cadbury, the streets of L.A were speeding ahead beside me.

"Mello, are you going to contact the President again?"

Rod asked from behind the wheels.

"Not anytime soon."

"So we're still waiting for any development on the SPK, I'd assume."

"You're a smart guy."

_SPK, eh? Oh, if he only knew._

The number one man in the SPK was in my bed last night.

Probably still is right now.

It was unbelievable. Everything worked perfectly the way I wanted. And no one ever needed to know about it.

_I won, Neiar._

It was a stupid little thing, but what I got was priceless. Although it got interrupted by a random incident, it turned out to be nothing in the end.

And to think that he was almost _worried_ about me...at least that was the impression I got.

The notebook was _amazing._

If I knew earlier it was capable of manipulating everything...

It was a bit of a gamble, but at least...

4 years was bloody well worth the wait.

Even though it was all a made-up scenario, I had alot of fun.

And it proved my suspicions correct.

It really _was_ you, Neiar.

I felt for him, though. After losing some SPK members, he would've been forced to either work together with this useless fake L, or go back to square one. All in all, I got to witness his sorry self. And having warned me of the possibility of Kira tracking me down.

_I was always second best._

Not now.

I grabbed the notebook out of the sidepocket and flicked through it.

"What were you doing with the note anyway, Mello?"

A smile crept up my face.

"Nothing. Just...a little experiment."

Won't be needing this anymore, I thought as I ripped the specific page off after reading it one last time.

_The following SPK members:_

_... death by heart attack._

_... Gardener ... death by gunshot._

_... Latto ...shot himself._

_The deaths will drive the youngest member of SPK to fly over to L.A the day after._

_After receiving relevant information from an anonymous source, he will find Club Deviant at the following address._

_He will then make a certain encounter with an old acquaintance, eventually leading to a normal nightsleep._

_As soon as he wakes up, the youngest member of SPK will have no memory of whoever he met beforehand._

END


End file.
